#she’s just so relieved that he’s okay

[4linos]

they call you clingy.

ot8 x fem!reader

warning: really angsty, feeling insecure/unworthy, no happy endings. (sorry)

wc: 8708

bang chan

You and Chan had been together for a while, and things were generally great between you two. You had your own lives, your own routines, but there was always a sense of closeness between you that you both cherished. Lately, though, you’d found yourself tagging along with him more often, especially when he had dinner plans with the members.

At first, he didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed having you around, and the other members seemed to appreciate it too. Some of their girlfriends were there as well, so it felt natural, like a group gathering. But after a while, you started coming along more frequently, not wanting to spend evenings apart. You thought it was a way to spend more time with him, but you could tell it was starting to weigh on Chan, though you weren’t sure why.

Chan said nothing at first, but you could tell he became quieter and more distant throughout these dinners. He looked at his phone more frequently, and his smile seemed forced when you spoke with him or the others. Still, you tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was just your imagination. You weren't doing anything wrong by wanting to be with him, right? You had every right to join him on nights when he was with the other members. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

One evening, as you all gathered for a casual dinner at a restaurant, the atmosphere was different. You were laughing, eating, and talking with some of the other girls when you realized Chan was particularly quiet. He was nibbling at his food and not really participating in the conversation. You leaned over to him, laying your hand on his arm, attempting to draw him into the moment.

"Chan, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice gentle and anxious.

He shuddered slightly at the contact and gave you a fake smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, but the tiredness in his voice was clear. The others didn’t seem to notice, but you did. It felt like he was pushing away from you just a little. Your stomach twisted as you tried to ignore the unease creeping in. Then, the conversation shifted. As the dinner continued, someone brought up how often you came along with Chan to these meals. You didn’t think much of it at first, but you could feel his discomfort growing.

“Honestly, though,” Chan suddenly chimed in, his voice a little more sharp than usual, “it’s getting a bit much. She’s always tagging along. It’s like she can’t ever be away from me. It's kind of suffocating.”

The words hit you like a smack in the face. You froze, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach. The table fell silent for a moment, the tension in the air evident. You could feel everyone's gaze on you, and your cheeks reddened with shame. You tried to shrug it off, believing it was a joke, but the expression in Chan's eyes revealed his disinterest. He was not joking. Time seemed to slow down, and you could feel the sting of his words settling deep within you. Without thinking, you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom, your chest tight and your eyes welling with tears. You locked yourself in a stall and tried to calm your pounding heart, but the words replayed in your mind over and over again. “Clingy,” “suffocating.” You felt small, insignificant, and utterly hurt.

Meanwhile, at the table, the other members exchanged glances, seemingly uneasy about what had just happened. After a minute, Hyunjin spoke up, his tone surprisingly soft. "Chan, that wasn't cool, man. Why would you say anything like that? She isn't clinging at all. She's just trying to spend time with you."

Felix nodded in line, his tone quiet yet forceful. "Yeah, we really like having her around. She makes things more fun, you know? I don't understand why you'd say something like that.”

Chan wasn't sure how to answer. He had meant it as a joke, something to relieve the stress he'd been experiencing lately, but now that he'd heard the other responses from the others, a rush of shame swept over him. He felt he'd crossed a boundary, but it wasn't until they spoke out that he recognized how serious the situation was. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered, but his apologies seemed hollow even for him.

His thoughts was muddled by remorse, and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely embarrassed. "I think you should go talk to her," Minho said softly. "She is probably really hurt right now. You have to make it right."

Chan’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to think about how badly he’d hurt you. His usual confident self was gone, replaced by a knot of regret.

lee know

It was one of those days. The sort where everything you touched seemed to fall apart, and every corner you turned revealed another disaster ready to happen. The day began with your boss screaming at you for something you didn't even do, his anger pouring out on you as if it were your responsibility that the world was collapsing. You hardly had time to calm yourself before spilling your coffee all over your blouse at lunch. The entire day had been an upsurge of humiliating incidents, missed deadlines, and biting your tongue to resist snapping at everyone who gave you the wrong look.

You were physically and emotionally drained when you arrived home. You just wanted the day to end, to close your eyes and forget everything. However, when you walked through the door, you were welcomed by a familiar, comfortable smell.

Minho was in the kitchen, wearing an apron and humming softly to himself while making something. Your heart lifted a little because he was here, cooking for you. The simple gesture of kindness was a welcome breath of fresh air after a long day of drowning.

You stood by the door, hesitant whether to interrupt, but then he turned toward you with a gentle smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You forced a smile, despite the weight of the day pressing on you. “It was... fine. I’m just glad to be home.”

He noticed the weariness in your eyes and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a gentle embrace. It was the kind of comfort you needed, even if you didn’t know it until he offered it. “Relax. I’ve got dinner covered. Why don’t you just sit down and take it easy?”

You nodded, thankful for his concern, but something inside you refused to just sit back and do nothing. It felt awful to be passive while he was so busy. "Let me help," you volunteered, heading near the counter, attempting to gather yourself after a stressful day. Minho gently shook his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "There's no need. "Please relax, okay?" You couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction. He was always so selfless and compassionate, and you didn't want to be someone who just sat by. Instead of disputing, you nodded and gave in to his desire. He was right, after all; you could use a break. “Alright. But give me something small to do.”

Minho paused for a moment to contemplate, then assigned you a tiny task. "Okay, could you please tidy up a little while I finish the soup? Just wipe down the countertops." It seemed simple enough.

You took a rag and followed his instructions while he worked on the soup. The house was peaceful, almost serene, and you hadn't felt that type of peace all day. It was good to be here with him and feel like you weren't confronting the world alone.

But in the middle of cleaning, your eyes darted to the pot of soup on the stove. It smelled incredible like something he had poured his heart into. You felt a surge of gratitude, the kind that made you want to help him, to show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

Without thinking, you decided to move the pot, to give him a little more space so he could focus on finishing everything. You gently lifted the heavy pot, but as you tried to shift it, your grip faltered. The edge of the pot slipped from your hand, and in an instant, it tilted, the boiling liquid splashing violently all over the kitchen floor and onto your leg.

You screamed out in shock, the searing heat of the soup burning into your skin, but the pain on your leg was nothing compared to the way everything seemed to shatter around you. The kitchen became chaos. The pot had fallen, splattered everywhere, and the delicious smell was suddenly replaced with the pungent scent of spilled soup. You tried to gather yourself, but the kitchen was now a disaster, and so were you on the verge of tears, overwhelmed, hurt, and defeated.

Minho turned when he heard the accident. His expression shifted from worry to annoyance in an instant. You looked up, and his eyes were filled with anger. The following words he said struck you harder than the burn on your leg. "Why are you always so clingy? I spent hours making that! "If you had just stayed out of the way for once, this could have been avoided!" His voice was harsh and slashed through the air like a razor. You stared at him, frozen in shock.

Was this actually happening?

His words felt like a punch to your chest. They were not what you expected, not from him, not when you were already dealing with the weight of the world. Your mind scrambled to make sense of it. How had it come to this? How had you gone from being the person he always tried to comfort to someone he now seemed to resent?

He stayed there, hands clenched at his sides. "God, I can't believe this," he said quietly, shaking his head. You always do this. You always get in the way. "Why can't you just relax and let me do it?"

You couldn't react because your heart was hammering painfully in your chest. You had spilled more than simply the soup. It was not only the mess. It was the sting of being accused of something you never wanted to do, like being too much. You did not want to be a burden for him. You never intended to make things more difficult, yet everything you did seemed to make things worse.

Minho sighed, looking at the mess with frustration. “Just… go to the room or something,” he snapped, turning away from you.

You stood there, unsure of what to do, feeling smaller than you ever had before. You knew he was angry, but the way he dismissed you, the way he acted like you were just an inconvenience, was something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t usually like this. But right now, it felt like you had done something unforgivable. It felt like everything you had ever tried to do for him had been wrong, every gesture of kindness or help misplaced.

Your legs gave way, and you sank to the floor, trying to steady yourself, but your hands trembled with the weight of his words. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. The physical pain in your leg from the burns was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You had wanted to help, to make things better for him. But now, all you could do was try to tend to your own wounds both physical and emotional alone.

You pulled yourself up slowly, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling, trying to find the strength to move. Minho was still in the kitchen, silent now, cleaning up the mess you had made, but his anger still hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You left him there, retreating to your bedroom, feeling more isolated than you had in a long time. The night was quiet, but the silence between you and Minho felt louder than ever. And in that silence, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep trying to be the person he wanted you to be when everything you did seemed to push him further away.

changbin

The evening started out like any other. You and Changbin were going to go to the gym together after a long day. You were excited to spend more time with him, especially since you had been trying to join him at the gym more often recently. At first, it seemed like a fun bonding activity. You'd go to encourage him, attempt to keep up with some of the exercises, and simply enjoy being with him. Changbin had always been a bit of a lone wolf, preferring his own time to recuperate, but he'd been nice enough to let you tag along at first.

You didn’t realize that things had slowly started to change. What had initially felt like an innocent way to spend more time together had started to weigh on him. Maybe it was because you’d started following him around everywhere always just a few steps behind, trying to do what he was doing, lingering around him during his sets. Maybe it was because he didn’t have his usual space anymore. But whatever the reason, Changbin was beginning to feel the pressure, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

You had no idea how much your presence at the gym was bothering him. He wasn't trying to hurt you or make you feel bad about wanting to spend time with him, but tonight was different. He could feel his patience fading and his irritation growing the more you wanted to incorporate yourself into his routine. It was supposed to be his time to escape. He needed the gym to be his sanctuary, a place to unwind and clear his mind. But tonight, as you followed him from machine to machine, everything came to a head.

The air in the gym seemed heavier than usual. Changbin could feel his patience fraying as you followed him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. You weren't doing anything wrong, yet he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense that you were constantly present. His gaze shifted to the clock on the wall; he'd been here for nearly an hour. And it wasn't that you were clingy in an obnoxious way; it was simply that you were always with him, which was enough to frustrate him.

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't clear his mind as he used to. You were always there, following his every move, asking questions about his setups, and attempting to get in the way of his routine. His thoughts were clouded, his mind no longer able to concentrate on the iron and his own movements. He couldn’t unwind. He couldn’t breathe.

When you followed him to the weights area once again, his frustration bubbled over.

“Y/N, can you just stop?” he snapped, his voice harsh and sharp, completely different from the usual warmth you were used to. His words cut through the air like a slap. “Can you just let me have this one thing? The gym isn’t supposed to be some place where you follow me around all the time. I need it to be my own. I need my space. You’re always here, and it’s... it’s too much.”

You froze, a cold shiver of confusion running through your body. Your eyes flickered from his irritated face to the ground, unsure of what to say. You had always been so excited to share things with him, and this was the last place you thought something like this would happen.

“B-Bin... I didn’t—" you started, your voice faltering, but he cut you off, his frustration spilling over.

“You’re always clinging to me, Y/N. And at first, I thought it was cute. But now? It’s just too much. The gym is supposed to be my alone time, somewhere I can relax, somewhere I can focus. But you’re here, and I can’t even do that anymore,” he said, each word feeling like a weight crashing down on you.

Your chest tightened and you found yourself unable to breathe for a little while. It felt as if the world had stopped moving around you, and all you could hear was the flow of blood in your ears. You weren't expecting to hear those words from him. Changbin had always been supportive and loving, even if he was a little protective of his space. What about now? Now it felt like he was pushing you away. And the way he avoided your gaze while he spoke, as if he couldn't stand to witness the pain he was causing, you could feel your heart breaking piece by piece.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it didn’t help. The lump in your throat was too big, and the pain was too overwhelming. You weren’t clingy. You just wanted to be close to him. You didn’t realize that your presence, something you thought was innocent, had been smothering him. But hearing it from him so bluntly… it felt like a punch to the gut.

You said nothing at first. Your body was stiff, your eyes filled with unshed tears. You wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. Instead, you simply turned slowly and began to walk away. "I'll go," you said softly, your voice barely audible. Your steps were wobbly as you approached the exit. Changbin turned around, his heart sinking into his chest. It hit him, followed by the look in your eyes. Your lips quivered. He realized what he had just said. The frustration and fury had been misplaced. He didn't mean to hurt you. He wasn't trying to make you feel unwanted. But it was too late now. The damage was done.

“Y/N—wait!” he called after you, but it was no use. You didn’t even turn around. You just kept walking, your back stiff, your steps hurried.

hyunjin

(a/n: you and hyunjin aren’t a couple here, you’re childhood best friends)

The after-party had been buzzing with energy all night, full of celebration and the kind of chaotic, joyful atmosphere that followed every successful concert. It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a chance to let go of the weight of the stage and just relax with friends. You, however, couldn’t seem to shake off the knot of tension that had been growing inside you for weeks.

It hadn’t been an abrupt change, not really. Hyunjin, your best friend, had slowly started to become distant. At first, it was subtle, a shift in the way he looked at you, the way he barely seemed to notice when you were around. But now, it had become glaringly obvious, especially in moments like this, when you found yourself desperately trying to keep the connection you two had built over the years.

You’d always been there for him, supporting him through everything the highs and the lows. But lately, whenever you tried to lean on him, he pulled away. The distance between you had begun to feel insurmountable, and tonight, surrounded by the group at the after-party, it felt like the final straw.

You felt an odd, uncomfortable pull as soon as you walked inside the party. The sight of Hyunjin laughing with the rest of the group should have made you happy, but instead it made your chest tighten with anxiety. He looked... unusual. His eyes, the way they avoided yours, made it clear that something had changed between you two. You despised the sense of being on the outside, like you didn't belong anymore.

You had tried to give him his space during the last few weeks, respecting the growing distance between you. But tonight, you were determined to be present. To pretend as if everything was still fine.

After all, you were his best friend, right?

You moved over to where he was sitting, talking with Seungmin and Jeongin. When they saw you approaching, Jeongin's face lit up with that warm, welcome smile that always put you at at ease. He gave you a warm nod and motioned for you to join them, which you immediately did, thinking that the familiarity of the situation could help the uneasiness that had begun to settle over you. But once you sat down, Hyunjin's tone changed. His eyes flicked across to you for a quick, unreadable look before returning to the others. You tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. Jeongin was chatting animatedly about something, but you couldn't pay attention. All you could think about was how Hyunjin had practically turned his back on you.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You leaned closer to Hyunjin, trying to keep your tone light, as if everything were normal. “Hey, Hyunjin... you good? You’ve seemed off lately.”

He looked at you, his expression suddenly sharp. “I’m fine,” he replied quickly, and there was a coldness to his voice that cut through you like ice.

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been able to talk through things before, but now it seemed like he didn’t even want to acknowledge you. You tried again, your voice trembling just slightly, “I’m just checking in... I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, as if he were irritated with you asking. “You’re always around,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “I don’t need you following me everywhere. It’s annoying.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, the weight of his comment sinking deep into your chest. You had no idea where this was coming from. You had always been there for him, not because you needed to be, but because you cared about him. You wanted to be there. But now, suddenly, it felt like you were an inconvenience.

The room felt suffocating, the noise of the party growing distant as you tried to process what he had just said. You had always been careful not to smother him, always tried to give him space. But now he was telling you that your presence, your very existence, was too much for him.

It was too much.

The lump in your throat grew, but you weren’t going to let him see you falter. You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but you couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that came flooding to the surface. You had tried so hard to be understanding, to be patient, but this was too much to handle.

Before you could say anything more, you snapped. “You know what, Hyunjin? I’m not following you around,” your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m only here because Felix invited me. As his date.”

The words hung in the air, sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. You could feel the sting of betrayal, the way Hyunjin had made you feel small, and the anger bubbled up inside you. The room grew quiet for a moment, everyone’s attention now focused on the exchange.

You didn’t look at Hyunjin. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned on your heel, your pulse pounding in your ears, and walked straight to Felix, who was standing nearby. He gave you a surprised glance, but he didn’t ask questions. He simply wrapped an arm around you as you sat next to him, offering you a comforting presence in the midst of your emotional storm.

You didn't speak for a time, your thoughts racing from the argument, but Felix didn't press you to explain. He just let you sit there in peace, his arm resting comfortably on your shoulder. You leaned into him, attempting to center yourself and escape the overpowering pain that threatened to consume you whole. Felix did not deserve to bear the burden of your wounded heart, but in that time, his comfort was the only thing that made sense.

Hyunjin's gaze stayed fixed on you as the party went on. But you refused to look his direction. He'd already made it apparent that your presence no longer mattered to him. He had driven you away with his hurtful words, and as much as it pained you to admit it, you knew deep down that it was too late to fix things.

The rest of the night was a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, about how he had made you feel so small, so insignificant. The person who had once been your best friend, who had always been there for you, was now the one who had cast you aside. And the worst part was that you didn’t even know why.

As the party wound down and everyone began to leave, you stayed close to Felix, not looking back, not wanting to face Hyunjin. You didn’t know what had changed between you two, or why he had suddenly decided that your friendship wasn’t worth his time. All you knew was that the person who had once been your closest confidant, the one who knew all your secrets and fears, had just torn your heart apart.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

HAN

The evening began like any other, or so it was supposed to be. But Jisung felt as if the world was pushing down on him with every step he made into the apartment. The intensity of the day still clung to him, like a physical weight of frustration, disappointment, and tiredness. He had spent hours in the meeting with the company staff, only to hear criticism for the smallest mistakes and missteps. It wasn't the first time, but it always hurt. This time, however, it seemed different; he couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy.

The door clicked behind him, and the familiar aroma of home didn't bring much comfort. Instead, it was almost smothering. His limbs ached, his mind raced, and all he needed was peace, time to unwind.

But you were there.

You always were.

As soon as he walked through the door, your eyes searched his face, and he could see the concern etched over your features. He could tell you'd sensed something was wrong. He attempted to disguise it when he saw you earlier that day, brushing off your "are you okay?" with a quick "yeah, I'm fine," but now, as you stood there with that sweet look in your eyes, he couldn't help but see it. You could look right through him, like glass.

"Jisung," you said quietly, your voice carrying the gentle tone you always used when you knew he was struggling, "are you sure you're okay? You don’t look okay."

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked. You'd been asking since the moment he came home, like you always did when you saw him worn down, like you always did when he looked like he was holding a little too much in. But no matter how well you meant it, no matter how much you truly cared about him, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Not today. Not tonight.

"I’m fine," he muttered, his tone dismissive, but you could hear the edge in his voice.

You hesitated, eyes scanning him again, sensing the distance between his words and the tension in his body.

"Jisung… I know you’re not fine," you said softly, a frown pulling at your lips. You reached toward him, wanting to bridge the gap that was widening between you, but he stepped back before you could touch him.

"I’m fine," he repeated, louder this time, irritation lacing his voice. "Just stop asking."

Your heart twisted, but you tried to swallow the hurt, not wanting to push him further. But you couldn’t stop yourself from trying again, desperate to get him to open up. "Please, I can tell something’s wrong. If you need to talk, I’m here."

He froze at that, hands clenched at his sides, jaw clenched. His frustration, the irritation that had been building inside him all day, finally cracked open.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, his voice sharp, his eyes burning with anger, not at you, but at the world that had worn him down. "Why are you always so clingy? It's annoying. I do not need you hovering over me like this. I don't need you constantly keeping tabs on me!" The words were biting and nasty. You trembled, a flood of hurt smashing over you, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't help but feel the sting of dismissal and the weight of his harshness. "I'm just trying to help you," you said softly, your voice quivering slightly. "I just want to make sure that you're okay. Why don't you let me help?"

He glanced at you, the spark of guilt in his eyes swiftly drowned out by the a flood of frustration within him. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He wanted to apologize. He knew he hurt you. But the words did not come, and he had no idea how to make it right. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted when everything inside him felt like it was about to come apart.

You did not wait for him to say anything. The anger, bewilderment, and hurt welled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you turned on your heel and marched out, your footsteps loud and strong as you made your way to the bedroom.

The door slammed behind you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. You sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of the frustration both his and yours press down on your chest like a suffocating blanket.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this way. You had only wanted to help him. To be there for him when he was struggling. But all he had done was push you away.

You heard no footsteps, no soft knock on the door. Normally, when something like this happened, he would come after you. He would apologize, his voice soft and regretful, and you’d make up. He’d say something about how it wasn’t you, how he was just having a hard time. But this time, the silence stretched on. The door stayed closed.

It wasn’t long before you realized he wasn’t coming.

The silence felt so loud, so suffocating, and it only made everything hurt more. He wasn’t here to apologize. He wasn’t here to soothe you like he always did.

And maybe this time it wasn't all about him. Maybe it was more than simply his tiredness and irritation. Maybe it was about something deeper, something more than just a bad day at work. Your heart broke at the thought that he might have pushed you away because he didn't know how to accept you. Maybe he'd been hiding his pain for so long because he was frightened to show you the parts of himself he thought were too shattered. Maybe he was just too stressed to recognize that you weren't a burden, but rather someone who wanted to help him shoulder the weight.

But right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had called you clingy, had pushed you away when all you wanted was to hold him close.

You curled up in bed, hugging your knees to your chest, and tried not to cry.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt the weight of the bed shift beside you. Jisung’s presence was always so familiar, so warm, but tonight it felt distant. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, in the darkness, as the minutes dragged on.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t know if you could ask him again if he was okay. Not yet. Not until he was ready to admit that he wasn’t.

felix

It had been one of those days where everything seemed strange, as if a thin film of tension had been applied to the edges of everything you did. The kind of day where even the most basic tasks felt significant, and no matter how hard you tried to make things feel normal, you couldn't escape the growing distance. Maybe you chalked it up to stress. Maybe it was just a phase. Everyone goes through a hard stretch, right? But when you woke in the middle of the night, your hand instinctively going for the warm spot beside you, only to find it empty, that emotion became too strong to ignore. Felix had always been the one to stay close, even in sleep. He was always so attentive to your needs, so present. But now, the space between you was cold, and the bed felt too large without him there.

You sat up, the quiet of the room pressing in on you, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you swung your legs off the side of the bed. The soft glow of the TV in the living room flickered across the hallway, casting long shadows.

As you made your way down the hall, you saw him there, slumped on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen but unseeing, staring at it like it held some answer that he couldn’t quite grasp. You could see the strain in his posture, the weight of something pressing on him, but he didn't acknowledge you as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, unsure what to say. The silence between you two felt like a wall, immovable and unbreakable. This wasn't the Felix you knew, the one who would always offer a comforting smile or an encouraging word when you needed it. This version of him was remote and frigid, as if he built a fortress and did not plan to let anyone in.

"Felix," you whispered slowly, trying not to shock him, your voice trembling with emotion. "What's wrong?"

He didn’t respond at first, as if he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he just didn’t want to answer. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like it added more distance between you two. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was low and strained, and it hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Nothing,” he muttered, though it was clear that wasn’t true. His words didn’t match the heaviness in the air, the emptiness that had settled between you two. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Leave him alone? You didn’t understand. Since when had he ever asked you for space, especially like this? Felix had always been the one to reach out, to comfort you, to be the one you could lean on when things got tough. But now, he was shutting you out, pushing you away.

You stood there, paralyzed, staring at the back of his head as the emptiness in the room seemed to swallow you whole. His posture was stiff, almost defensive, like he was trying to make himself smaller, trying to hide from you, and it hurt more than you ever expected.

"You don't have to be so clingy all the time," he said, his voice more clipped and distant than you'd ever heard. It was as if the words were spoken by someone else, a stranger in the body of the person you loved.

Clingy? The word resonated in your thoughts, sending you reeling. You'd never considered yourself clingy. Have you really gotten so annoying? Was your affection and presence too much for him? You couldn't understand it. The connection, the intimacy that had once been so natural between you two now seemed so far away, as if it were a dream you couldn't fathom.

“I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry, not to show him just how much his words had wounded you. “I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’re… you’re not like this, Felix. Not with me.”

You took a tentative step forward, hoping that your proximity would reach him, that your presence would somehow break through the wall he had built around himself. But he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you, and that hurt more than anything else. It was the silence, the refusal to face you, that felt like a betrayal.

"Please talk to me," you whispered, your heart breaking as you watched him remain motionless on the couch, his eyes still fixed on the television, as though he could pretend you weren’t even there.

But Felix didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his focus on the screen, the distant expression on his face more painful than any argument. You could feel the distance between you growing, spreading like a chasm, and it felt like you were standing at the edge, about to fall into the void.

It wasn't always this way, you thought, recalling times when simply being in the same room was enough to make you feel connected. It seemed as if you blinked and everything had changed. He wasn't the same Felix who would stay up with you when you were feeling sad, holding you and whispering comfort in the darkness. The man who had once looked at you with warmth and love now seemed so distant, like a stranger you didn't recognize.

Your heart ached; the anguish of losing him, feeling him slide through your fingers, was almost excruciating. You could not tolerate the deafening stillness between you any longer.

With a last, desperate glance at him, you whispered, “I’m here, Felix. I’m always here for you. If you need space, if you need time, I’ll give it to you. But I just… I just need to know you’re okay.”

But he didn't respond and didn't move. His silence hurt worse than words could, and you realized, with a sickening feeling, that you had no idea where you stood in his life. The Felix you knew, the Felix who would always reach out to you, seemed like a memory you could no longer grasp onto. You turned away, your feet feeling heavy as you walked back to the bedroom, the distance between you two becoming more than just physical.

The weight of his disinterest crushed against your chest, smothering you, and you wondered whether things would ever be the same again. Will he come to you eventually? Would he tell you about what was bothering him, or had you already lost him in ways you couldn’t fix?

You climbed back into bed, the sheets cold where he should have been beside you. And as the night stretched on in silence, you tried not to feel the unbearable emptiness that had settled in your heart, wondering if Felix would ever look at you the same way again.

seungmin

The front door creaked open, and you could hear Seungmin's footsteps in the hallway, dragging slightly, indicating how exhausted he must have been after a long day of practice and vocal lessons. You'd been waiting for him, possibly too eagerly, though you tried not to admit it. You had planned to talk, the conversation you'd been putting off for days because the silence had gotten unbearable. The subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he became more distant and engaged in his own world, weighed heavy on your chest.

You knew how busy he was, how much work he put into his training and craft. But it didn't take away the sting of feeling like an afterthought, as if you were no longer a part of his life. You had tried to keep it together, to give him his space when he needed it, but the continual feeling of being neglected was gradually pulling you apart. You needed him to see you. You needed him to care the way he used to, to put forth the same effort that you did.

So, as the door clicked shut and you heard him move toward the kitchen, you braced yourself and entered the hallway to greet him.

"Seungmin," you called softly, but there was no immediate response. He didn’t even look up, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You took a breath, trying to keep the anxiety from choking you. "Can we talk?" Your voice was steady, though you could feel the tremor beneath it. "It feels like we’re not the same anymore."

His footsteps faltered for half a second, and you thought maybe you had caught his attention. But instead of stopping, he just continued walking past you, brushing past your shoulder so closely you could feel the coldness radiating off him. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

"Seungmin," you said again, but this time there was a little crack in your voice, a vulnerability you didn't want to express. You needed him to hear and see you, even if just for a moment. But he did not stop. Finally, he gave a low, exasperated groan that hung between you like a wall. He turned halfway, his eyes flickering to you with an enigmatic expression. "Why do you always make things so dramatic?" His comments were harsh, cutting through the silence and making you flinch. "You're really clingy. Just leave me alone for once."

The words were like a punch to the gut. The force of them knocked the wind out of you, and your heart seemed to stop for just a moment, trapped somewhere in the space between your chest and throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say something so cold, so dismissive. All you had wanted was to talk, to bridge the distance that had formed between you, but now it felt like you were drowning in it.

Your body went still. You opened your mouth to respond, to explain how unfair that was, but no words came. How could you even argue against that? How could you explain that all you wanted was his attention, his care? You weren’t clingy you were hurt.

"Seungmin, I’m not—" The words tumbled out weakly, but they didn’t seem to matter.

"You are," he interrupted, his tone now flat, distant. "I don’t have the energy for this right now."

He turned away from you, heading toward the kitchen without another glance, leaving you standing in the hallway, shattered.

You stood there for a long moment, frozen in the aftermath of his words. Everything you had been holding back, all the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness that had built up over the last few weeks, was suddenly crashing down on you like a wave. Was that it? Was that all you were to him now? Someone who was too much to deal with?

You had never felt so small. So invisible.

You had tried to keep it together. You had told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that he was just stressed, that he didn’t mean it. But now, standing there in the hallway with nothing but the echo of his dismissal ringing in your ears, you realized that maybe this was the problem the distance. The lack of communication. The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you could never reach him, never get him to understand what you needed, what you were hurting from.

You wanted to chase after him, to try again, to make him see how much his words had stung. But something inside of you had broken. There was a voice inside you now that said, "It’s too late. You’ve tried. He doesn’t want to listen." And that was more painful than anything else knowing that, deep down, he didn’t even want to meet you halfway anymore.

You had hoped, and even prayed, that things would return to normal, that the love you once shared would reemerge. But standing there, you couldn't help but feel as if you were fighting a losing war. You didn't ask for much: simply his time, presence, and devotion. You never expected this level of coldness in return.

The silence in the home became intolerable, and each second felt like a weight on your chest. You wanted to yell at him and urge him to care, but all you could do was stand there, feeling the barriers between you two grow higher and higher.

You turned away slowly, your legs heavy, your head spinning with everything you had just heard. You didn’t know what hurt more: his words or the fact that he had walked past you like you were nothing.

You needed him to care, but right now, it felt like the person you needed was already gone.

I.N

The evening had been everything you hoped it would be: thrilling, warm, and full of laughing. You'd been dating Jeongin for about a year, and he was finally introducing you to his members. It seemed like an important milestone in your relationship. You'd heard so much about them, and now you'd get to meet the people he cared about the most. The anticipation had you beaming all evening as you helped Jeongin in cooking dinner, your heart filled with delight at the prospect of cooking together and spending time with the people who were such an important part of his life.

The dinner had gone smoothly. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with the sound of happy chatter and the clinking of silverware. The members were friendly, teasing each other and joking around. You could see why Jeongin was so close with them they were like brothers, comfortable and at ease with each other. You had felt so welcomed by them, their laughter contagious, and the food you had helped prepare had been met with praises.

As the night wore on, everyone settled into the living room, enjoying sweet treats and wine. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening, or so you had thought.

But as the evening wore on, you noticed something that made your stomach churn. Jeongin was distant. He had been quieter than normal, with his focus wandering. Normally, he would be the first to steal a kiss from you or press his hand on yours if you were close. But tonight? Tonight, it felt as if he was purposefully keeping distance between the two of you.

You brushed it off at first, believing he was just weary or stressed after introducing you to everyone. After all, meeting his members was a major step, and maybe he was just concerned with making sure things went smoothly.

But it wasn’t just that.

When you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, like you had done numerous times before without thinking twice, he pulled away almost immediately. The action was swift and sharp, as if you had done something wrong. You blinked in surprise, a frown tugging on your lips, but before you could ask what was wrong, he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, "Stop being so clingy." The words struck you like a physical punch. You froze, the warmth of your feelings for him vanished, replaced by a frigid knot of perplexity and embarrassment. Did he mean it? You could feel the weight of the members' gazes as you looked around the room, though no one said anything. But you could tell they had heard, the awkward silence that followed making it painfully clear.

You felt heat rising up your cheeks, humiliated. Had you overstepped? You had never been clingy before and had never thought of yourself in that way. But his comments, which were cutting and contemptuous, hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. The casual tenderness you had always shared seemed like a distant memory today, a bitter reminder of how things had changed without warning.

Jeongin had always been so warm and tactile with you. Kisses on your cheek while cooking, his arm slung over your shoulder while watching TV, all the little things that made you feel safe and cherished. But tonight? Tonight he was a different person.

You tried to ignore it, thinking maybe it was a bad moment. Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe something had happened at work or with the members that was weighing on him. But as the night continued, the distance between you only seemed to grow. When you tried to brush your hand against his, he pulled it away, a small frown on his face. When you tried to rest your head on his shoulder again, he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your touch with a small sigh.

It was as if you were a stranger to him, someone he couldn’t stand to be close to.

Your heart dropped. It was a feeling you never expected to have with him, the type of coldness that made you question everything, including the entire foundation of your relationship. You had no idea what was going on in his mind, but the way he was treating you now felt so different from the Jeongin you had fell for.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and prevent yourself from entirely disintegrating. The quiet hum of the talk in the living room followed you as you walked back, the members' voices merging into the background as your thoughts occupied you.

Was he angry with you? Had you done something wrong? Maybe he was embarrassed by you, by your clinginess. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen as the guy who couldn’t control his girlfriend. Maybe you were being too needy, too dependent, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe he had changed, and you were the one who had failed to notice.

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm the tightness in your chest. When you returned to the living room, you tried to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. But the look on Jeongin’s face when you came back made your stomach twist even further. He didn’t smile at you like he usually did. He didn’t reach for you. He just sat there, a distance between you that felt like an ocean.

You sat down again, feeling smaller than you had with him before. You did not want to confront him in front of the other members. Not when things were going so well. You didn't want to ruin the evening or make things uncomfortable for everyone. But the awkwardness was already there. It seemed like a thick cloud suffocating you, and you knew he felt the same way.

Eventually, the evening came to an end. The group began saying their goodbyes, laughing and conversing, although their voices were scarcely audible. You were too consumed by the subtle tension between you and Jeongin, who hadn't spoken anything to you since your previous conversation. You gently grabbed your stuff, not quite meeting his eyes.

When you reached the door, Jeongin still hadn’t moved. He was standing by the couch, talking to one of the members, completely ignoring you. It wasn’t how you thought it would go. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would end.

It wasn’t until you were halfway out the door that he finally spoke, his voice distant, flat. "You okay?" he asked, as if the tension between you hadn’t been there all evening.

You stood frozen, looking back at him, your chest tight. You wanted to say so many things. You wanted to ask why he was acting this way, to demand an explanation, to tell him how hurt you were by the way he had dismissed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied softly, your voice quiet, strained. "I’m fine."

And then you stepped out, leaving the apartment behind, the discomfort and uncertainty lingering in the air like a thick cloud. You had no idea what had happened or what had caused this abrupt change, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something in your relationship had just broken. Something that might not be fixable.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you weren't sure if Jeongin noticed.

//

(proofread ❌)

masterlist

[myownwholewildworld]

OKAY SO… where do i even begin with this?! i think i might have gone into arousal shock (is that a thing? must be) after reading this MASTERPIECE, odi. like the way you set the pace, the back and forth, how reader was adamant at first that she just wouldn’t be “another one”… UGGGHHHH it hit all the right spots for me!! also, your writing is so immersive, i was right there in the party and then in the bar with them. you write so beautifully i can only aspire to be like you one day when i grow up 😭 the dynamic between them was so natural, i can only say THAT MUST BE LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. can’t convince me otherwise!

so, without any further ado, let me dive in because I HAVE THOTS i need to let out before i pass out!

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out.

YUP, that’d be me. i’d be fighting wars on a muddy pitch just to grab his hat!!!

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination.

HOWLING TO THE FUCKING MOON YOU DID THATTTTT omfg someone sedate me RIGHT ABOUT NOW I’M BEGGING YOU

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free.

the way i pictured this instantly, i ain’t joking i think at this point i started running a fever???

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

i don’t know how reader kept it together, i would of died right there and then. like he’s DIABOLICAL FOR DANCING HIS WAY TO HERRR ASDSFKDÑLKJ

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

HAHHHHAHHHHAHALJLADJA BYE. the fact that she stood her ground?? she’s the strongest of us all. kudos to her honestly.

“I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

gnawing at the walls of my fucking coffin right now. i wouldn’t have asked, i would have begged.

the whole text exchange had me on a chokehold because that man was on a mission he was not about to lose. he knows what he wants and he gets itttttt ugh to be chased by a man like that, DREAM. and when he sends her his pic saying that he’s feeling lonely? DAMN RIGHT HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING. also loved when they are at the bar and Javi opens up about being a DEA agent letting her see some of his real self? like, yeah. he’s down bad, i knew at this point this couple was meant to be. i’ll die on this hill.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied. His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.” 

HAHHAHJAHAGTYWIWM,. i was about to fight if he didn’t go into the room, extremely relieved he did.

“Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

ODI, YOU- YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL 😭 from this point on i just completely lost my shit and i was a trembling bundle of nerves throughout. if you looked up the definition of “feral” in a dictionary, my fucking face would be besides it. i shouldn’t have read this in a public space but with every word it just got better and better, hotter and hotter, i just couldn’t stop. i was heavingggggggg. anyways…

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

your thoughts scattered??? beautifully put considering how wild this made me feel… i was not having demure thots at this point.

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

put me in horny jail, i beg you. i was suffering. i am suffering while rereading this.

it would be wrong of me to just quote the whole pussy eating scene so just know i was so not normal about it. grab a shovel, might as well go dig my grave now.

and then the end, when they both come undone and he says “give me one more”??? IS THAT SENTENCE EVEN LEGAL??? gonna have to check the law because i feel like it shouldn’t be. and the promise of a second round????? 🥵

i am so glad i finally got to read this because I WAS SO MISSING OUT. the whole fic was a fucking tease and a masterpiece, i truly cannot describe it any other way. PLEASE I BEG YOU, WILL YOU WRITE A SECOND PART TO THIS??? i hope so 😭

Strangers

Stripper!Javier Pena x f!reader // almost 9k

Time stands still and it's only us, what we feel started way before we ever touched... must be from a different life been here before and it just feels right

summary: you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

warnings: mdni, 18+, javi is a stripper, he wears a man thong and gets pretty close to stripping it all off in public, there's cock and balls, unprotected p in v, f!oral receiving, lap dances for days, reader has breasts, a dress, and hair that can fall around her face and is internally conflicted about this man and his leopard thong, javi has a pov in this too

notes: i really don't remember what sparked this but here we are... it's been like a month or more of me working on this. I thought I was done and then I heard a single song and it pushed me to write even more. This was supposed to be just a smutty fic and then got some depth and I was like wtf. Anyway on to the thank yous, thank you to the 5000 people I have screamed to about this, and a massive thank you to @thundermartini for listening to me go on and on about this guy for a long time and then reading it for me love you baby! A special mention to @gothcsz for the thong idea, @evolnoomym, @milla-frenchy and @sawymredfox for being so supportive of this idea to @joelslegalwhre for reading and @syd-djarin for the moodboard

masterlist

The music thumped so loudly it seemed to shake the floor, the kind of bass-heavy track that rumbled through your chest. Your best friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and the rented penthouse buzzed with laughter, shrieks, and a significant amount of tequila-fueled chaos. The party planners had spared no expense, from the towering stacks of champagne glasses to the flashy male entertainment just about to take the stage.

And then, he walked in.

You couldn’t ignore the way the room seemed to shift when he entered. The man—Javier, as the MC introduced him—had an undeniable presence. Dressed in a tight police officer uniform complete with aviators, a fake badge, hat, and handcuffs, he adjusted his badge with a grin that screamed trouble. His dark eyes surveyed the room with the kind of confidence that could only come from knowing he was the main event. 

Every woman in the room, including you, took notice.

While your friends ogled and whispered not-so-subtle comments, you tried—and failed—to keep your eyes elsewhere. He was gorgeous, sure, but this wasn’t your scene. Loud parties weren’t really your thing. 

The first performance was for the bride-to-be, of course. When the lights dimmed and the music shifted to something playfully seductive, the room erupted into cheers and Javier made his way to the bachelorette. 

“Ladies,” he announced, his voice smooth and teasing as he pulled a pair of fake handcuffs from his belt. “I hear there's a bride-to-be here who’s guilty of breaking hearts. I’m afraid I’ll have to take her in.”

Your best friend shrieked with laughter as he arrested her, securing one cuff around her wrist and helping her onto a nearby chair. The room buzzed with excitement as he began to dance, every move deliberate and designed to tease. 

You watched the scene unfold, biting your lip to stifle your laughter. He was undeniably good at what he did. But you couldn’t focus on the theatrics as much as everyone else seemed to. Your attention had zeroed in on him—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the effortless way he commanded every inch of the massive penthouse, the man was sex on legs. As he began to set up for the big finale, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out.

His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long. He’s just playing to the crowd, he has to look at all the women right?

The bassline shifted to a slower, dirtier rhythm, and he rolled his shoulders back, his body falling into perfect sync with the beat.

Then came the shirt.

He gripped the edges, peeling it off slowly, revealing inch by inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over a perfectly sculpted chest and arms. When he finally tossed the shirt aside, the room erupted in cheers and whistles.

And yet, all you could do was stare and clench your thighs together. Why was this affecting you so much? It’s just a party. It’s just a guy. Get a grip. But no amount of inner scolding could make you look away. Something about this man pulled you in.

His chest glistened under the soft glow of the light, each bead of sweat tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the chiseled contours of his body. Your breath hitched, captivated by the sheer allure of him—the way every ridge of muscle stood out, accentuated as his hand drifted slowly down his torso. He moved with deliberate ease, fully aware of the spell he was weaving, and the teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips made it clear that he was savoring every second of all the attention he was receiving.

But it was when his fingers moved to rip off his belt that the real show began.

The collective energy in the room surged as Javier teasingly ran his hands down his sides, and in one swift, practiced motion, he reached for his waistband and yanked.

The rip-away pants came apart with a sharp, satisfying sound, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The noise, a mix of gasps, shrieks, and raucous laughter, echoed through the penthouse. But none of that registered as you stared at what had been revealed.

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination. Every inch of his sculpted body was on display—toned legs, powerful thighs, and that tiny scrap of fabric barely holding itself together. The cut of the thong framed his hips perfectly, the deep lines of his V cutting down, drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted them to go. The thin fabric of the thong clung tightly to him, leaving the unmistakable outline of his cock on display, straining the limits of the material. Javier seemed completely unbothered by how much was on show.

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

The room exploded excitedly, women fanning themselves, throwing bills, and shouting over one another. But you could barely breathe.

And then, just when you thought the spectacle couldn’t get any more outrageous, Javier turned around with a deliberate, teasing spin, giving the room an uninterrupted view of his backside.

The thong was practically nonexistent, the thin fabric disappearing completely between the firm, sculpted curves of his ass. His glistening, muscular cheeks were on full display, round and perfectly defined, drawing another deafening eruption of cheers and whistles from the crowd.

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your breath hitched and your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out the music. Heat flushed through your body as your gaze lingered shamelessly on his backside, every inch of him a deliberate invitation.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Javier turned back toward the crowd, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he surveyed everyone's reactions.

He strutted forward, running his hands up his torso and tossing a playful wink to the bride-to-be, who was practically falling out of her chair from laughter and shock. But his gaze kept flicking to you.

Your cheeks burned as he moved closer, spinning on his heel to give the audience another view. His movements were fluid and sensual, every roll of his hips and flex of his body perfectly in time with the music. When he leaned down to grab the bride’s hands to feel up his torso, his back arched in a way that emphasized the curve of his ass, and you bit your lip without thinking.

This man was a problem.

When he finally ended the dance with a flourish—dropping to his knees in front of the bride-to-be before flawlessly almost jumping back up to a standing position—the applause was deafening.

Javier laughed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He took a playful bow, blowing a kiss to the bride-to-be before gathering his discarded pants and shirt. His bare torso glistened under the soft glow of the party lights, and the lingering smirk on his lips suggested he knew he had the entire room wrapped around his finger.

The girls were still cheering and clapping, their voices a mix of exhilaration and tipsy enthusiasm. But while the others were caught up in the wild energy of the moment, you felt a strange tightness in your chest, like the room had closed in around you.

You weren’t used to reacting this way to someone, and it unnerved you. The heat creeping up your neck was impossible to ignore, and no amount of pretending to be distracted by your drink could hide the fact that your eyes kept darting back to him.

And he noticed—like a magnet—his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped.

For a split second, everything else faded; the noise, the laughter, even your own internal protests to look away. It was just him, standing there, looking at you with that maddening confidence.

Then he moved.

Javier began to dance again, hips rolling in slow, hypnotic circles to the bass-heavy beat. The fabric of the thong strained with every motion, but he didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it—one hand trailing down his torso to brush along the waistband, teasing as if he might remove it completely.

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

Your breath caught as you tried to focus on literally anything else—your drink, the flickering candles on the table, the way your best friend was still howling with laughter. But there was no escaping the fact that Javier was now standing right in front of you, every inch of him radiating heat and presence.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You blinked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Uh… yeah. It’s been… something.” Your voice wavered, betraying how flustered you felt. Something? Really? That was the best you could come up with? You scrambled for words, your brain short-circuiting. “I mean—great. It’s been great.”

Smooth.

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” he teased, his grin softening into something warmer, more inviting. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let me make your night.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, though your cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining composure. You crossed your arms to emphasize your refusal, but Javier didn’t look the least bit discouraged.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

Despite your best efforts, the laughter bubbling up from your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. But when you refused—again—he didn’t press. Instead, he winked, gave an exaggerated shrug, and moved on to another guest, leaving you strangely disappointed.

————

Later, after the performances ended and the room was quieter, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the back corner of the room scrolling idly on your phone, trying to drown out your lingering thoughts about him. A few drinks had loosened your resolve. You noticed a stack of glossy business cards on the table where he had tossed his hat earlier. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up.

The card was sleek, black with gold lettering. At the top, in bold, elegant lettering, it read:

Elite Heat’s Javier Peña

To the left, there was a neatly organized list; a phone number, a Facebook link, which you immediately ignored, and a website address. But it was the bottom that made your breath hitch.

On top of a gold banner, the words Elite Heat: “The Best Sex Therapy” were printed in bold, confident lettering. 

To the right was a photo of Javier himself.

It wasn’t a professional headshot - far from it. It was one of those casual yet devastatingly attractive pictures that looked effortless but likely required perfect lighting and timing. He wore a grey long-sleeve shirt that framed his broad chest perfectly, the top buttons undone just enough to tease without giving away too much. His hand, however, made it impossible not to stare—casually slipping beneath the fabric, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined abs. The way the light hit his skin added a subtle sheen, making the whole image feel like a deliberate invitation.

For a moment, you just stared at the card. The combination of professional polish and brazen confidence made your stomach twist in a way that annoyed you.

“The best sex therapy, huh?” you muttered to yourself, raising an eyebrow at the audacity.

Curiosity got the better of you. You grabbed your phone and typed “Javier Peña” into Instagram. After scrolling through a few accounts that clearly weren’t him, you found the right one.

The profile itself was… an experience.

Picture after picture of Javier dominated the feed—some in his infamous uniform, others in casual attire, and far too many shirtless to be accidental. Every post was a masterclass in confident allure, and his captions were just as bold.

The comments were what really got to you, though. Endless lines of hearts, fire emojis, and thirsty declarations filled each post.

“Find something you like?”

His voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your phone. You looked up to see Javier standing in front of you, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and he was wearing his uniform pants again. How long had he been there?

“I was just…” You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse for stalking him online. His smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in closer than necessary. “You can follow me. Might even follow you back.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, caging you in.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, one dance. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it… well, you can give me your number when it’s over.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling faster than you wanted to admit. After all, what was the harm in one dance?

Javier’s confidence was infuriatingly contagious, and your curiosity was louder than the protests in your head. You nodded if only to prove to yourself that he wouldn’t get under your skin. A small, victorious smile curved his lips as he straightened, offering his hand. “Good choice.”

He didn’t give you much time to second-guess as he guided you to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the penthouse. Some of your friends hooted and hollered, clearly thrilled to see you in the spotlight. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step as Javier led you to a chair he had conveniently placed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

The music shifted to something slower and sultrier. Javier grabbed his shirt from his shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. The movement was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his toned chest and large arms drew every pair of eyes in the room. Including yours.

He stalked closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had disappeared. Just you, the chair, and the dangerously attractive man who seemed to thrive on the tension hanging in the air.

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Before you could reply, he began to move.

It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected. Yes, it was provocative—every roll of his hips and glide of his body was designed to tease—but there was something more deliberate about it. He kept his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands didn’t touch you—not yet. Instead, they skimmed close enough to make you ache for the contact, only for him to pull away at the last moment.

He straddled the chair, his thighs framing yours as he dipped low, his chest hovering just inches from your face. His scent filled your senses, and your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he could see the effect he had on you.

Javier straightened, his hands gripping the chair on either side of you as he moved his hips in a way that felt borderline illegal. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, but he still didn’t touch. The lack of contact was maddening, and the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The song ended too quickly, and he stepped back, leaving you feeling both relieved and oddly bereft. Your friends erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on Javier as he extended a hand, helping you out of the chair.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten to you. “It was… okay.”

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver through you. “Just okay, huh? I’ll have to work on that.”

Before you could respond, he winked and disappeared back into the crowd.

——

An hour later, the party was winding down. The penthouse was quieter, and most of your friends had migrated to the couches or left altogether. You were nursing your last drink of the night when Javier appeared again, a shot glass in each hand.

“For you,” he said, offering one with an easy smile.

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”

He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, leaning in closer. “I did put something in it.”

You froze, and he smirked, finishing his sentence with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “It’s called tequila.”

Your laugh surprised even you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, clinking his glass against yours. “Now drink up.”

Against your better judgment, you downed the shot, the burn of the tequila grounding you for a moment.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, how about that number?”

Javier’s smile didn’t waver as he set his empty shot glass on the table. “Still hesitant, huh?” he asked, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I don’t make it a habit to give my number to strangers, especially ones who…” You gestured vaguely to his naked chest and the police hat perched crookedly on his head. “...do what you do.”

“Fair enough,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “At least let me follow you on Instagram..”

You stared at the phone, then at him. The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and the way his dark eyes searched yours made it hard to hold onto your skepticism. Against your better judgment—again—you took the phone and followed your account.

“Here,” you said, handing it back after following him.

Javier glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the night with the same confidence that had drawn every eye in the room earlier.

Javi 

Javier leaned against the balcony railing outside the penthouse lighting a cigarette, the cool night air doing little to temper the heat still coursing through him. The party was still going inside, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere—to you. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at himself. He’d performed for hundreds of women, charmed his way through countless parties, but tonight felt… different.  

You’d thrown him off balance in a way he wasn’t used to.  

Sure, you’d laughed at his jokes and taken the shot he offered, but there was something in your eyes—an intoxicating mix of curiosity and resistance—that had him hooked. He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you tried to keep your guard up even as he chipped away at it. Maybe it was the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, like you couldn’t quite help yourself.  

Or maybe it was the way he couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the dance floor in his head. The way your breath hitched when he leaned in. The way your lips parted, as though you were holding back words—or something else entirely.  

The music from the party shifted the song echoing in the distance. Javier’s mind wandered as the melody pulled him into his own thoughts. It wasn’t just lust that gnawed at him—though, hell, that was definitely part of it. No, this was something deeper, something that felt unsettlingly like longing.  

He ran a hand through his hair, the grin he’d worn all night slipping away. He’d never been one for complications, especially when it came to women. His job was to entertain, to tease, to flirt—but he’d never felt this kind of pull before. It was like a spark had ignited when he locked eyes with you, and now it wouldn’t go out.  

For the first time in a long while, Javier wasn’t sure if he was in control.  

The lyrics to the song playing in the penthouse hit him square in the chest.  

Must be from a different life, been here before, and it just feels right. No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers.

The words struck a chord, leaving him standing there, staring out at the city lights, wondering how a single dance, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.  

It's like it's driving me closer to you, every step back pulls me right back to you…

Maybe you wouldn’t give him your number. Maybe this would end here, tonight, like all the other nights before. But as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened Instagram, his thumb hovering over your profile, he couldn’t help but think—this didn’t feel like an ending.  

It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to let go of.  

———

Back in your hotel room, you flopped onto the plush bed with a groan. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, Javier’s smirk and the heat of his gaze lingering longer than you cared to admit.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for your phone. A quick check of Instagram confirmed what you suspected—he’d already followed and sent you a message.

Javier: See? Now we’re not strangers anymore.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. His confidence was irritatingly endearing.

You: I don’t think Instagram follows count as a formal introduction.

His reply was almost instant.

Javier: What would count? Because I’m pretty sure that dance was more personal than most first dates.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to admit that.

You: Is this your usual routine? Flirt with everyone at the party, then slide into DMs?

Javier: Nope. Just you.

You stared at the screen, your stomach doing an annoying little flip at his words.

You: Why me?

The typing indicator blinked for a moment before his reply came through.

Javier: Because you didn’t throw yourself at me like everyone else. And because you’re cute when you’re pretending not to be interested.

Your cheeks burned as you read the message, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You: I’m not pretending.

Javier: So you are interested?

You: I didn’t say that.

Javier: But you didn’t deny it, either.

You sighed, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You: Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?

Javier: Nope. Not tonight.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, another message popped up.

Javier: You could come over, you know. Save us both the trouble of texting all night.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and you hesitated, typing and deleting a dozen responses before settling on one.

You: Not happening.

Javier: Why not?

You: Because it’s late, and I’m not that kind of girl.

Javier: What kind of girl is that?

You: The kind that sneaks into a stranger’s room after one tequila shot and a few texts.

Javier: I’m not exactly a stranger anymore.

You stared at his message, your lips twitching at the boldness. Before you could type out another response, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a photo. From Javier.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the image preview before finally opening it. The picture was simple yet devastatingly effective: Javier, shirtless, sprawled on a hotel bed, the faint light casting shadows that only emphasized his toned chest. His dark eyes smoldered into the camera, and his messy hair added to the whole “devil-may-care” aesthetic he wore so well.

Javier: Feeling really lonely over here. Could use some company.

Heat pooled low in your belly and you groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed as if distance could break the spell he seemed to have on you. But of course, curiosity won out, and you grabbed it again, typing out a response before you could second-guess yourself.

You: Flattery and thirst traps won’t work on me.

Javier: Who said it was flattery? Just being honest.

You: Still not happening.

Javier: Okay, how about a compromise?

You: What kind of compromise?

Javier: Drinks. Just the two of us. Down at the hotel bar. Public place, no pressure.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. Saying yes felt like walking into a trap, but a part of you was curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little tempted. The idea of sitting across from him, away from the crowd, felt… different. Safer. Almost.

You: Fine. One drink.

Javier: I’ll take it. Meet you there in ten?

You: Fifteen. I need to change.

Javier: You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart. You already look perfect.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you tossed your phone onto the bed and rifled through your suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, you stepped into the elevator, your heart pounding with anticipation and nerves as you descended to the hotel bar.

The bar was dimly lit, with warm amber hues reflecting off the polished surfaces. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere both intimate and unassuming. You spotted Javier immediately.  

He sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair. He’d changed into a simple black button-down that clung to his frame in a way that was almost unfair. His gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.  

“Right on time,” he said, standing as you reached the table. He pulled out a chair for you, a small but unexpected gesture that caught you off guard.  

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, settling into the seat.  

“Noted.” His smile widened as he slid into the chair opposite you.  

The server appeared almost instantly, and Javier gestured for you to order first. You requested a simple cocktail, while he opted for whiskey on the rocks. As the server walked away, his attention returned to you and it wasn’t long before they returned with them.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “What convinced you to come down here?”  

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”  

“And?” 

You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”  

He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”  

The banter came easily, the conversation flowing in a way that surprised you. He was quick-witted, teasing without being overbearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was easy to talk to, it felt like knew him without knowing him. The more you spoke, the more you caught glimpses of the man behind the cocky facade—sharp, observant, and surprisingly thoughtful.  

Still, you made him work for it.  

Whenever his compliments grew too bold, you deflected with a teasing remark. When he leaned in a little too close, you leaned back, though you couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through you each time he tested your resolve.  

“I like this game you’re playing,” he said after a while, his whiskey glass nearly empty.  

“What game?” you asked innocently.  

“The one where you pretend you’re not interested.” His gaze was unwavering, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.  

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, though the words sounded less convincing than you’d hoped.  

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “No? Then why are you still here?”  

You opened your mouth to respond, but the truth caught in your throat. Why were you still here?  

Before you could come up with an excuse, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.  

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”  

For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter.  You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.  

“Okay,” you said quietly.  

His brow lifted. “Okay, what?”  

“Okay… you’re not completely unbearable.”  

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “High praise.”  

“You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

His smirk softened into something gentler, his fingers still lightly brushing yours on the table. “Not everything has to be a good idea to be worth it, sweetheart,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Is that your life philosophy, or just your way of convincing women to give you their number?”

“Both,” he said with a shrug, his grin returning. “And it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you eased slightly. The conversation shifted after that, the teasing banter giving way to something more genuine. He asked about your life, your work, your dreams—and for every question he asked, he shared something about himself, too. 

“I wasn’t always this guy,” he admitted at one point, swirling the remnants of his whiskey in his glass. “I used to be a cop. A real one. Back in Colombia.”

You blinked, surprised. “A cop? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. DEA, actually.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What made you leave?”

His expression darkened briefly, a shadow crossing his features. “Let’s just say… the job took its toll. And I realized I wanted something different. Something lighter.” He glanced at you then, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “Though I’m not sure stripping is what my father had in mind when I told him I was switching careers.”

The two of you laughed, and the conversation continued to flow. By the time your drinks were empty, you realized you were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word.

Javier glanced at the time on his phone and then back at you. “I hate to say it, but the bar’s closing soon.”

You nodded, a strange mix of disappointment and relief settling over you. “Guess I should head back to my room.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Can I walk you to your door?”

Your pulse quickened at the question, but you nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you rode the elevator in silence, the charged tension between you filling the small space. When you reached your floor, he stepped out with you, his presence at your side was both comforting and exhilarating.

When you finally stopped outside your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Well… this is me.”

“Home sweet hotel,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense.

You fiddled with your key card, unsure of what to say. He didn’t push, didn’t try to move closer. Instead, he simply smiled.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You swallowed hard, his words sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with unspoken possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant at first—a test to see if this was really what you wanted. But the moment his lips moved against yours, everything else fell away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he deepened the kiss. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied.

His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.” 

As Javier lingered, you found yourself hesitating. The way he kissed you had ignited something within you—something raw.

You opened your door but didn’t step inside, glancing back at him. "Well, you coming?”

He arched a brow, that teasing smirk returning. “You sure?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Javier followed you inside. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he studied you.

“So,” he drawled, his tone playful but low. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think you know Javier.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers lightly grabbing your wrist. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and his voice dropped an octave. “If we’re doing this, I’m in control, ¿entiendes?”

You nodded, and it must have been obvious how nervous you were.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands brushing your knees as he stepped between them. “This is supposed to be fun.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened, your pulse skyrocketing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

When you hesitated, his hand trailed up your thigh, his touch light but maddening. “Go on beautiful,” he urged. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks and pooling low in your belly. Javier leaned back slightly, giving you space but never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark, commanding, and utterly unapologetic. He wanted this. Wanted you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy. 

You hesitated, your heart pounding like a drum, but the way his fingers skimmed over your thigh made it impossible to think straight. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing yet dripping with authority. “I want to see every bit of you, mi amor.”

Your hand trembled as it moved to the hem of your dress. Slowly, you slid it higher, exposing more of your thighs to his burning gaze. He walked back and pulled up a chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his eyes never wavered from you. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The praise sent a shiver through your body. You could feel your arousal building, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.  

Your breath shuddered as your fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, the dampness betraying just how much his presence, his words, his command, had affected you. You glanced at him, unsure, but his gaze was steady, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race. 

Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric, the first tentative touch drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. Javier's expression darkened with hunger, his composure unraveling ever so slightly as he leaned forward. 

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you can’t hold back.”

Your fingers began to move in slow circles, your body responding to your touch almost instinctively. The heat between your thighs grew, and your hips shifted slightly, seeking more pressure. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of your movements. 

Javier's eyes never left you. His own restraint was evident in the way his fists clenched, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back from me.”

You whimpered, your movements becoming more confident, more insistent as you lost yourself in the moment. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, seemed to light a fire in him. His control was slipping, and it was intoxicating to know that you were the one unraveling him. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going, just like that.”

Javier’s gaze burned into you, the tension in his jaw betraying how tightly he was holding himself back. But then, he shifted, his hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, exposing the golden skin of his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if daring you to keep watching even as your own hand continued its rhythm. 

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding, the sound vibrating through you. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. Then, his hands moved to his belt, the metallic clink making your breath hitch. He undid it in a single, fluid motion, the sound of the zipper following shortly after. 

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his hips, the sculpted planes of his abdomen, the sheer strength of his frame—it was as if he had been carved just for you. Heat coiled low in your belly, a visceral reaction to the undeniable evidence of his desire for you.

Your eyes traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with a heat that left you both vulnerable and electrified.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze despite still being partially clothed. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing he could see—made your pulse race and your chest tighten with need.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken hunger, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide how deeply he affected you.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm you’d set for yourself. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t hide from me, nena.”

The sight of him, so confident, so completely at ease with his own pleasure, made your own need intensify. Your movements quickened, your body arching slightly as the tension in your core built. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every shiver, every gasp, every movement of your hand.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, his strokes becoming faster as he watched you. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever.” 

Javier’s hand stilled suddenly, and you watched as he got up, his body exuding confidence and unrelenting command. He stepped closer, towering over you where you sat, his dark eyes still heavy with desire. He leaned down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice a seductive rasp as he said, “Come here.”

You hesitated, your heart racing, unsure of what he was asking. But he took your hand, pulling you gently to your feet, and his lips brushed your ear. “I want you to dance for me. Just for me.”

“I��I don’t know if I can,” you stammered, your cheeks burning. The idea made your pulse race, the vulnerability and intimacy of it all was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His hands moved to your waist, steadying you. “Yes, you can, you’re perfect.”

His words wrapped around you, melting your hesitation. Slowly, you began to sway, your movements tentative at first, but his gaze never wavered, filled with encouragement and raw need. 

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, and you began to lift it, inch by inch, exposing your skin. His eyes tracked every motion, his breaths deep and heavy, fueling your confidence. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You turned away from him, your fingers trembling as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders before finally slipping out of your panties. 

“Fuck, you are so beautfiul.”

You felt the power in his words, the way they stoked your courage and your desire. With each slow sway of your hips, you inched closer to him, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to resist. His heated gaze anchored you, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins.

You ran your hands down your body, over your curves, letting him watch as you closed the distance. His chest heaved as you straddled him and the tip of his cock brushed against your core, you froze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Just like that. Take your time, baby. Feel every second of it.

“Javi,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know if I—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His touch was firm, guiding but never forcing. “You’ve got this, baby. Dance for me—on me. Take your time.”

The raw hunger in his voice undid you. He guided your movements as you began to grind against him, slow and sensual. Your body aligned with his as you slid against him, teasing him with every slow grind. His head fell back against the chair, his jaw clenched as he groaned your name. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip, encouraging your movements. “Just like that. Feel me, nena. Let me feel all of you.”

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

The sensation stole your breath as you took him inch by inch, your body adjusting to his size. His growl of pleasure rumbled through you, his hands guiding you down until you were completely seated. The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming and it felt so good.

“Now move, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “Show me how good you can make us feel.”

You began to roll your hips, your movements slow and deliberate as you rode him, your bodies perfectly in sync. The connection between you felt electric, every thrust and grind drawing you closer together. His hands explored your body, his lips tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone as you moved, his murmured praises driving you to the brink.

Each undulation of your hips sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, and as you rode him, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled in passion and ecstasy.

The sensation made you both gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as you began to move. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.” 

The tension coiled tighter with every roll of your hips, the friction building to a fever pitch as Javier groaned your name like a prayer. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements, his thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin as if to anchor himself. The entire time his gaze stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize the way you looked in this moment—completely undone above him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

The words lit you up, your pace quickening as you chased the edge, that blinding release that teased just out of reach. Your breaths mingled with his, sharp and ragged, the room heavy with the sound of skin meeting skin and the delicious symphony of your pleasure.

“Javi,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Something in his voice broke you, the sincerity laced with desire, the unshakable promise that he wouldn’t let you fall. Your body tensed, your movements stuttering as the first shockwaves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out his name as you shattered around him.

Javier didn’t falter. He held you steady, his grip firm as he ground his hips up to meet yours, pulling you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you slumped forward, resting your forehead against his as you tried to gather yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with need, though his concern for you was evident.

You nodded, chest heaving as you caught your breath. “Yeah,” you whispered. 

“Your turn to relax. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he stood. A soft squeak escaped you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

“Javi, I can walk,” you protested weakly, though you made no effort to pull away.

“I know you can,” he teased, “but I like having you right where you are.”

The bed was cool against your back when he laid you down, but his body quickly chased away the chill. Javier followed you down, his weight settling between your thighs.

“Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his gaze softened. “Where were we?”

Javier’s lips captured yours in a kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every second, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat as he paused to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. His hands explored you, tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips before sliding lower. Every touch sent shivers through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasps escaping your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your body aching for more. “Javi, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly. “Patience, sweetheart. You just taste so good.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body arching involuntarily. “Javier, I need… I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re so beautiful like this. All mine.”

As his lips moved lower, he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, his hands spreading you gently. The anticipation made your body tremble, your legs parting instinctively as you felt him pause, his breath hot against your core.

“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he worked you with slow movements. Javier groaned softly, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you open, the sound vibrating through you and heightening the pleasure.

Your hips bucked against him, and you gasped, “Javi, please, I’m so close.”

He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening as he smirked at you. “I love hearing you beg for me, come on let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His tongue and suddenly his fingers moved together in perfect rhythm, lapping, sucking and moving just right. The tension in your belly coiled tighter until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves that left you trembling. Javier didn’t stop until your body softened beneath his touch, his movements slowing as he kissed your thighs and worked his way back up your body.

By the time he reached your lips, you were breathless, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How was that beautiful?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

“Incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw.

Javier groaned softly at your touch, his restraint visibly fraying. He kissed you harder, his body pressing into yours as his arousal became impossible to ignore. “You sure you’re ready for more?” 

You answered by rolling your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale as he gritted his teeth. “I need you, Javi. Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He positioned himself, his gaze locked on yours as he pushed into you in one slow, steady motion. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, clinging to him as your body adjusted.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight.”

“Move..please,” you urged softly, your lips brushing his ear.

He obeyed, pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that was slow but deep. Every movement drew you closer until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

His hand slid between you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, teasing it in time with his thrusts. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building impossibly fast. “Javier,” you whimpered, your body tightening around him as the tension reached its breaking point.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Come for me, give me one more.”

His words were your undoing. You shattered around him, your cries filling the room as pleasure consumed you. Javier followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release.

For a while, neither of you moved, the room quiet except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Eventually, Javier rolled to the side, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Javier.”

His smirk returned. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over you both. “You’ll need it for round two.”

[cherrysolo]

omg since you`re doing minifics inspired on taylor's songs, can u do you belong with me? its my favorite song <3

you belong with me

omg I love this idea and this song <3 it’s such a classic taylor song that reminds me of my childhood :( this is going to be sooo fluffy and predictable but idc these are fun to write!

warnings: none! just fluff

you and luigi were best friends ever since childhood, now in college together. he was always your person, he knew you better than anyone else. as you had gotten older, you’d began to realize you had feelings to be more than just friends. you had always kept your feeling to yourself though, never expecting him to reciprocate.

“You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night

I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like”

“baby, I can’t right now I’m studying with y/n,” he mumbles into his phone one late february night. you try not to listen to his conversations with his girlfriend but it doesn’t help that she’s blowing up his phone.

“you know that y/n and I are friends, nothing more. we’re just studying that’s all,” he quickly glances to you, you return a small smile.

he sighs as he hangs up the phone, you can feel the tension in the air.

“you can go be with her lu, you know, if she needs you or something,” you begin packing up your things to leave,

“no, I’d prefer to be with you instead,” and his smile is what makes you stay. moments like these made you wonder if he’d want you in that way,

“ ‘Cause she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts

She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers

Dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time”

a couple weeks later, while sitting at a cafe on campus studying, you see luigi and his girlfriend walk by. he looks amazing, he’s laughing, his skin is glowing, and of course she was on his arm. she wore heeled boots, a navy knit sweater, a mini black skirt, and her blonde hair cascaded down her back. she was the leader of the alpha phi sorority, how could she have anything in common with lu? you sat there with envy, deep down you knew that you knew him better than anyone else, he was indeed your best friend. seeing her laugh at his jokes, ones that you had probably heard before. instead of going back to studying, you sat there daydreaming 'bout the day when he wake up and find that what he’s looking for has been here the whole time.

“Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh

When you know you're 'bout to cry

I know your favorite songs

And you tell me 'bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong

Think I know it's with me”

you heard erratic knocking at your door,

“y/n, open up, it’s lu,” you unlock the door and see him standing there, his eyes bloodshot red.

“lu, what happened? are you okay?” he rushes in for a hug, gripping onto your sweater and breathing in your scent, it’s so comforting to him. “she cheated on me,” he sniffles.

“I caught her with another frat member,” he releases from your arms.

“I’m so sorry lu,” you try to console him before he interrupts you,

“is it weird I’m kind of relieved? I don’t even know why I’m crying,” he chuckles, which his confession is full of truth because you had only seen him cry twice before.

you both sit down on your bed, placing your hand on his forearm, rubbing back and forth.

“do you think love her?” you blurt out. luigi’s eyes meet yours, thinking for a moment.

“I don’t even think I liked her half the time,” which makes you chuckle.

“oh cmon, she is the definition of perfect though,” which you can confess, because she is everything you aren’t. luigi places his hand where yours lies upon his arm still, he slightly squeezes it. “well now I can spend more time with you, anyways could you hug me again? I think I need it,” he looks at you with pleading eyes. oh you were so far gone.

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you

Been here all along, so why can't you see?

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me, you belong with me”

by the time spring formal comes around, your feelings have expanded times a thousand. you and luigi had been spending every waking moment together, your friendship had reached new heights. tonight you would be luigi’s date to upenn’s spring formal, even though you were technically only going as friends, you had never been so nervous.

you weren’t one for dressing up but for this night you went all out, a short navy blue silk slip dress with a twist front, and a pair of white kitten heels with a bow. you’d even spent hours on your hair, wanting to look your best. finalizing your look with lip gloss, you heard a knock at your door. you open your door and see luigi standing there, your breath got caught in your throat looking at him, he looked perfect. dressed up in a full suit and tie, with his tie colour matching your dress. you were both looking at each other up and down, not even sure what to say. you’d never seen him this silent.

“let me just grab my purse, you look great by the way,” trying breaking the awkward tension, you wanted this night to go perfectly.

as the night progresses, you grow more urgent to confess your feelings to luigi. a battle in your mind that you wish you weren’t having on a night like this, but his hand grazing your lower back and his wandering eyes were making you a lost cause. was ruining a friendship worth coming clean with your feelings?

you were both tipsy and walking back to luigi’s dorm, finally alone together. your heart starts to beat faster than it ever has before, maybe it was just the tequila. “lu, i have something to tell you, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” you blurt out, almost not understanding what you were doing. you stop in your tracks and he looks back at you, up and down.

“can you picture it? you and I?” his eyebrow furrows, eyes dotting between yours and your lips. “i-i guess, but you liked […]” you step back almost in shock that he is imagining the same thing as you.

“I don’t like […], she’s not you. I’ve known you since… forever. you’re basically home to me, I can’t imagine being with anyone else,” he steps forward and pushes back a piece of hair behind your ear. “but wouldn’t us being together ruin our friendship?”

“we can’t be friends anymore though, I’ll always see you as something else. I only want you,” he confesses, “we should try this, don’t you think?” he steps closer placing a hand to your cheek, leaning in, you nod up and down to give him permission, because you’re far too nauseous to speak. his lips softy melting into yours, then pulling back to look at you. you both quickly go back in for another passionate kiss, his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you open up for him. you both moan into each others mouths then pull apart, realizing you are both still outside. you both start laughing, luigi pulls you to his side and you begin walking. “you know, my family has been placing bets on when we would start dating,” he chuckles. “what? no they didn’t,”

“actually they starting saying that in high school we would,”you walk back to luigis dorm wrapped around each other. you two always belonged together.

[gothamite-rambler]

Bruce answered his phone without checking the caller ID.

Bruce: What is it, Nightwing?

Dick: I… You’re not going to ask who this is?

Bruce (dryly): I made distinct ringtones for all of you.

Dick (curious): What’s mine?

Bruce (serious): Nickelback’s "Photograph."

Dick: Why would you make it that? I hate that band!

Bruce (raising an eyebrow): You have such odd… awful takes about music.

Dick (playfully): Says the man who unironically likes The Room.

Bruce (defensive but amused): When you treat it like a comedy, it's really funny! Why did you call?

Dick: Where are you? Your assistant said you were at therapy, but none of us believed that.

Bruce (firmly): I’m actually in therapy.

Dick (skeptical): Is that code for something?

Bruce (deadpan): No. Harley—yes, Harley Quinn—is giving me free therapy services, and I’ve been meeting with her for three weeks now.

In the background, Harley lounged casually in an armchair with an iPad, wearing clear sunglasses that made her look more professional, though her red pantsuit contradicted that effort.

Harley (leaning forward, smirking): Oh, you’re definitely paying me for these sessions at the end of the month. You’re not Roy; you have multiple sessions energy!

Bruce (exhaling sharply): We will discuss that after I end the call. Nightwing, is there anything else you need, or can I hang up?

Dick (suspicious): Have you been hit with Joker toxin, hypnotized, or exposed to Ivy’s pollen?

Bruce (sighing): No, no, and no. She’s good at her job; she just managed to fall for an insane clown and ruin her career… We’ve all made mistakes like that.

Harley nodded enthusiastically, clicking her pen repeatedly, her attention caught.

Bruce (a hint of affection in his tone): That’s not an insult to Damian. I love him; he’s my son and the only good thing I got out of that relationship. But Talia is… well, she’s nuts.

Dick (shaking his head, amused): Right… this is so surreal, but at least you have a therapist. Um, okay, I’ll tell the others you’re actually in therapy.

Bruce (curious): Are they with you?

Dick: No.

Bruce (relieved): Good. Don’t tell them who the therapist is.

Dick: Right, because you’d be incredibly embarrassed to be working with someone who was our former enemy and is technically still insane.

Bruce (with a hint of resignation): You’re on speaker.

Dick: Yeah, and?

Harley (grinning): Honestly, he’s handling this way better than I thought he would.

[gilmorenights]

I’ve always imagined there being an episode of VAT7K where team radical hears of this fortune teller and spends the episode seeking her out and when they get to her she reveals in a dramatic way that someone is going to betray the team (a lot like The Oracle in the Pjo musical) and that ends the episode.

So next episode we see team radical is on edge and suspecting each other to be the traitor of the group. Obviously it’s Hugo, but he freaks out and just kind of fires back every time someone says something about him (“How do we know Nuru won’t steal the totems for herself once we complete the quest? I bet Varian has something to hide”) and he does it in a way that just kind of fans the flames.

Varian is the only one not acting like this because he is CONVINCED the traitor is him. At this point in their journey, his past as The Alchemist is still hidden and he intended on keeping it that way until this whole debacle. Now he has to watch his whole team fall apart and accuse each other of betraying the team all the while knowing he’s the one who betrayed them.

The last straw is when they’re sitting around the campfire and someone accuses Yong. That’s when he finally snaps and is like “It’s me, okay? I’m the traitor!” Then there’s this whole dramatic lament he does about his past and how he’s a terrible person for not telling them and he understands if they don’t want to help him anymore. Nuru and Yong are understandably shocked, but Hugo? Hugo just sits there quietly, trying to figure out what that weird feeling in his chest is. It almost feels like guilt, but no. That can’t be. Hugo doesn’t feel guilt. If anything, he should feel relieved that his secret is safe.

Eventually, Nuru takes Varian’s hand and smiles softly at him. She tells him he’s not a traitor for keeping this from them, for trying to hide something he isn’t proud of. She says everyone in the group betrayed each other by turning on and accusing one another the way they did. They’re all traitors to each other, and they should all learn to do better.

This is the turning point where I believe Team Radical officially becomes a real team. Before this they were just a group of kids with their own interests in mind, but now they’re a unit. There’s a new, unspoken level of trust and unity between them and it shows in the way they handle the rest of their journey. I think this is also the point of the show where Hugo starts doubting his mission just a bit. It’s not enough to make him want to back out (yet), but it is when the first seed of doubt is planted in his mind.

Sorry for the ramble I’ve just had this idea for so long and had to get it out somewhere 😭

[ithilien-writes]

yaaay! my prompt is choosing joy verse wedding planning (even if it’s just your thoughts on the roles everyone takes on!) ♥️♥️

Okay, this is probably not at all what you were envisioning, but I hope you still like it!! Thank you for the prompt! 💜💜

(to anyone reading: these were meant to be quick scenes to help unblock me so please take them in that spirit. ie. this was written really quickly and without much editing. feel free to send me some more!!

---

Best Laid Plans [Buck/Eddie (Buck & Maddie), G, ~900 words]

Buck is not being a bridezilla, okay? Or groomzilla? Whatever. He's not. No matter what Chim says about it. Buck is just being... particular. So that everything will be perfect. Eddie deserves that. Buck deserves that. So he's just- he's taking the wedding planning seriously, that's all.

"I'm just saying, why does he always have to do it here?" he can hear Chim saying in the other room, followed by a distinctly Maddie-sounding huff that's part fond and part exasperated.

Whatever she says in response, it's too low for Buck to hear, but when she comes back into the kitchen she's alone and he can hear the front door opening and then closing again. Buck can't help but wince a little in apology.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to drive Chim out of his own house."

But Maddie waves him off, one hand resting on her now very pregnant stomach.

"It's not you," she says, too forgiving of Buck, as always. "He's just stressed about the baby coming so soon. I sent him to run some errands; it's fine."

She comes around the island to peer over his shoulder at the three invitation samples currently spread out in front of him and hums thoughtfully.

"I like the cream with the blue font," she says. "The gold looks to fancy and the grey's a little boring."

"Right?" Buck agrees, probably a little too emphatically, as he twists around to look at her. When he sees her smile though, it makes him feel a little like he's twelve years old again, and the sudden surge of love that wells up in him almost takes him by surprise, if only just in it's ferocity.

"That's uh. That's what I was saying," he adds lamely, after a moment.

Maddie's smile gets a little brighter and she rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so happy for you," she says, getting a little teary the way she seems to be at the drop of a hat these days. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Buck tells her, feeling his own throat tighten a little around the words.

Maddie sniffles and then rolls her eyes at herself.

"God sorry," she says. "Third trimester. I've already cried three times today. This baby needs to hurry up already."

Buck laughs with her, picking up their chosen invitation and tucking the other two back behind it. Maddie circles the counter again and goes to make another pot of coffee. It's decaf, but she swears it still has some kind of placebo effect. Buck's not entirely convinced.

He drums his fingers on the table a little, debating with himself. But it's just Maddie. It's just the two of them. He could ask her.

"Hey, um," he starts, a little awkwardly. "Do you- do you ever feel. I don't know. Weird? A-about Jee-Yun spending time with Mom and Dad?"

Maddie turns back from the coffee maker and regards him seriously. She doesn't look thrown by the question, even though Buck knows it has to seem like it's coming out of nowhere.

"Honestly? Yeah, sometimes," she says, and Buck lets out a slightly shaky breath, feeling weirdly relieved by her answer.

"It's not like-" she pauses, considering- "I'm not worried about her safety or anything, obviously. But I remember what it was like growing up in that house. Some of things they said to us. To you."

She sighs, fidgeting with the mug in her hands a little.

"So yeah, I worry a little," she admits. "Sometimes."

Buck nods, looking down at the invitation without really seeing it this time. Eventually he looks back up at Maddie and finds her still just waiting. Always so patient with him.

Buck clears his throat.

"They just- they haven't really... met Christopher," he says eventually. "I mean, obviously they did, at your wedding. But like, they haven't really spent any time with him. And I'm- I know it's dumb, but I'm-"

"I get it," Maddie tells him, voice soft.

Then, even more softly-

"You don't have to invite them, Buck."

Buck scoffs a little, at that.

"Come on," he argues. "They're our parents. I have to invite them."

"No," she argues back. "You really don't."

Buck shakes his head.

"That's not even- I want them there," he says. And he does. He's... pretty sure he does. "I'm just-"

Maddie sets down her coffee.

"Okay, how about this then - maybe you should just talk to Christopher about it," she suggests. "He's a teenager, so he's old enough to understand complicated family stuff-" Buck can't help but snort a little, at that- "and maybe it would good for you guys anyway. For him to understand things a little better."

"We did uh. We did kind of talk about it once," he tells her. "Or well, I did. He said our family was messed up."

This time it's Maddie's turn to snort.

"Well, if the shoe fits," she quips, picking up her coffee again but sighing a little discontentedly as she takes a sip.

Buck looks over at her and can't help but smile again.

"I don't know," he says, "I think my family is actually pretty great, these days."

Maddie smiles back at him, even as her eyes immediately go teary again. And well- if Buck gets an earful from Chim when he gets home about making Maddie cry, he can take it.

It's worth it.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 7

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

Fic Playlist

Masterlist

Here is another chapter cause I'm still writing out the other fics right now :)

Previous

Chapter 7: Breaking Point

Y/N’s POV

It’s been, what, two weeks since I last saw Sukuna? Since he left my apartment I finally put my foot down. It feels surreal. Like he was here one moment, his presence filling every part of my life, and then, just like that, he’s gone. I can actually focus in class again, and my thoughts are less cluttered without his constant ups and downs. For the first time in a long time, I’m getting assignments done on time, and keeping up with my workload. But underneath it all, there’s this ache, a hollow space where he used to be.

I try to ignore it, but it’s always there, tugging at me, making it hard to concentrate completely. It’s the little things—his laugh echoing in my mind, the feel of his arms around me, his stupid smirk whenever he got under my skin. I find myself wondering if he’s okay. Did he come out of the hospital yet? Did he manage to finally piece himself together?

A part of me wants to reach out, just to check in. Maybe see if he’s doing better, if he’s still leaning on his friends, getting through each day somehow. But that’s not my place anymore, is it? I gave him so many chances to let me in, to let me help, and every single time, he shut me out. He made it clear he wanted to handle things his way. And I… I need to start respecting that boundary, as much as it hurts.

I take a deep breath, glancing out the window of the studio. The city is buzzing outside, people going on with their lives, completely unaware of the turmoil inside me. I sip my coffee, watching the people walk by, their laughter faintly audible through the glass.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a message from Utahime.

Utahime: You doing okay? Need anything?

I smile, appreciating her concern. She’s been there since everything happened, her presence a constant comfort, even when I didn’t realize I needed it.

Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking too much, as usual.

Utahime: Well, stop that! We’re going out tonight. A distraction is exactly what you need.

I hesitate, looking down at my phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I know she’s right. A distraction might help me let go of these lingering thoughts, these small pieces of Sukuna that I can’t seem to shake.

Me: Fine. Where and when?

Utahime: I’ll pick you up at 8. Be ready!

A part of me feels relieved at the thought of getting out, of being around people who remind me of who I am outside of Sukuna, outside of this relationship that became such a heavy part of my life.

as the car moves through the city streets, I press my head against the cool window, letting the world blur past me. The bass-heavy beat of W.D.Y.W.F.M. pulses through my headphones, each lyric tugging at parts of me I’ve been trying to bury.

Maybe you’re right, maybe this is all that I can be, the words echo, hitting a little too close to home. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of those lyrics settle in my chest. The memories start seeping in—the countless times I let myself believe that if I loved Sukuna enough, if I was patient enough, he’d eventually find it within himself to let me in. That if I just waited, things would finally feel right. But now I wonder… maybe it wasn’t just him. Maybe I should have known better than to believe that love could fix someone so broken.

But what if it’s you, and it wasn’t me?

The question pierces through my thoughts, stirring a bitterness I didn’t know I still had. He wanted to drown in his own pain, to shut me out every time I tried to pull him up for air. I couldn’t have been the answer, and yet here I am, with pieces of him still lingering, haunting me at every turn.

The Uber driver takes a corner, the familiar streets near my apartment coming into view. I force my gaze away from the window, back to my phone screen, trying to focus on anything but him. It shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does—knowing that for all the love I poured into him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from self-destructing.

The song fades as I arrive at my building. I thank the driver, taking a deep breath as I step out, feeling the city air wrap around me. The streetlights cast a dim glow on the sidewalk, and I let myself pause for a moment before going inside. I need to let him go, I tell myself firmly, as I push open the door and head up the stairs to my apartment. I have to learn to let go of the weight of him, of the what ifs and the could’ve been that keep me tangled in his memory.

I climb the stairs, my heart pounding faster with each step as I spot the car parked out front. The familiar shape, that old, dark-colored sedan that Sukuna drove everywhere... no, no, no, I think, my pulse racing. I’m not ready to see him. My body tenses with dread, the past few weeks crashing down on me in waves.

But as I get closer, I realize it isn’t him. The figure slouched in the driver's seat isn’t Sukuna—it’s Yuuji, his face drawn and pale under the streetlight glow. Relief floods me, only to be replaced by confusion and worry. I stride up to him, feeling the weight of all the things I know about Sukuna’s recent spiral pressing on me, unsettling and heavy.

"Yuuji," I say, my voice sharp, "why are you here?"

He startles, looking up at me with bloodshot eyes. I catch the shadow of sleepless nights, maybe even nights spent worrying about Sukuna. He tries to brush off the tension, but I can see right through him. He's younger, not yet old enough to be driving around on his own at this hour. That alone makes my stomach twist.

"I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to," he mutters, glancing away. The hurt and worry in his voice rip into me.

My gut clenches as I realize just how much of Sukuna’s pain has been spilling onto his family. The weight he’s putting on Yuuji, on Choso… it’s more than I ever understood. The anger, frustration, and heartbreak I felt these past weeks—they’re nothing compared to what Yuuji was going through. He’s barely an adult, forced to watch his older brother destroy himself.

“Yuuji,” I say softly, keeping my tone steady, “what’s going on? Why didn’t you call me?”

Yuuji looks up, and in that one look, I see just how much he’s been holding in. “I thought… I thought I could handle it, but… he’s just getting worse. I can’t even talk to him without him blowing up at me. He left some days ago, maybe more, and just stormed out. No one knows where he is. Toji, Choso, and even Geto…they all tried reaching him, but he wouldn’t answer. And then I remembered… you always knew how to reach him when he was like this.”

The ache in his voice cuts through me, and a fierce protectiveness rises up. I left Sukuna to deal with his pain, but it’s clear that his absence has left more than just a hole in my life—it’s tearing his family apart too.

“Yuuji,” I start, forcing calm into my voice. “I know things are tough, and Sukuna… he’s dealing with a lot. But you don’t have to do this alone. Have you told anyone else? Choso? Gojo?”

He shakes his head, looking at the ground. “No. Choso is dealing with enough as it is… and I don’t want them to worry more.”

He’s trying to be strong, trying to hold everyone else together when he’s the one falling apart. I know that feeling all too well. Sukuna and I broke things off because I couldn’t keep sacrificing my sanity for someone unreachable. But I never thought about how much worse it would get for those who couldn’t walk away, like Yuuji and Choso.

I reach out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yuuji, you don’t have to do this alone. You shouldn’t be doing this alone. Sukuna needs someone to get through to him, and it might not be me anymore—but we can try together.”

He stares at me for a moment, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Do you think… Do you think he’ll ever listen? Or is he too far gone?”

My heart aches at his words. “I don’t know. But we have to try.”

He nods, the glimmer of hope in his expression heartbreaking and determined.

I closed my eyes, gripping the phone tight. I knew Kenjaku could be difficult, even evasive when he wanted to be. Sukuna had a talent for finding people who were just as stubborn and reckless as he was. But I couldn’t back down, not now, not with Yuuji looking at me like he was counting on me.

“Kenjaku, I need to know. Yuuji’s here with me. He and Choso haven’t heard from Sukuna in days. They’re worried sick, and he’s…he’s not okay. I think you know that.”

There was a pause on the other end, the silence stretching uncomfortably long. I could almost picture Kenjaku’s calculating look, weighing his options. Finally, he sighed. “He showed up here a few nights back. I didn’t ask questions. He’s been sleeping it off on my couch, but I’ll be honest—he looks like hell, Y/N.”

The anger that had been simmering inside me now sparked, but it wasn’t toward Kenjaku. It was all for Sukuna—his self-destructive spiral, the pain he was dragging everyone into, and the part of him that still didn’t realize how much he meant to those around him.

“I’ll be over soon,” I said, voice steady despite the turmoil within me. “But please, don’t tell him I’m coming. I don’t want him bolting before I get there.”

Kenjaku’s chuckle was dry, but he agreed. “Sure thing. I’ll keep him occupied, though good luck getting through to him. He's really badly…. He’s fucked up, Y/N.”

I hung up, feeling a mix of relief and dread. When I looked at Yuuji, his eyes were wide, filled with a flicker of hope. He didn’t need to ask what I’d found out; the look on my face told him everything.

“I’m going to see him,” I said softly, reaching for my bag. “I’ll try to talk to him, to get through to him, somehow.”

Yuuji looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and worry. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

With a final squeeze of his shoulder, I turned and headed out the door, my heart pounding as I braced myself for the conversation I wasn’t sure I was ready to have.

Yuuji nodded, taking the key from my hand with a somber expression. "I will. Be careful, okay?" he said, his voice thick with unspoken worry.

I offered him a brief smile, though I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. "I will. Just... keep an eye on things here, yeah? If anything happens, call Toji."

Yuuji gave me a small, reassuring nod before he turned to head toward the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the hall as he climbed.

I stood there for a moment longer, staring at the door. The tension was building inside me—this wasn't going to be easy. I had no idea what I was walking into, but I knew I had to face it. For Yuuji. For Choso. And for myself.

With a deep breath, I pulled my jacket tighter around me and left the apartment, locking the door behind me. The walk to Kenjaku's place felt longer than usual, each step heavy with uncertainty. The city seemed quieter tonight, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement as I made my way toward the familiar building.

When I finally arrived, I didn't bother knocking. Kenjaku had given me the code to the door ages ago. I typed it in quickly, the door clicking open with an almost too-loud sound. The hallway was dimly lit, and I could hear the faint murmur of voices from behind one of the doors.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand on the doorframe. This was it. I didn’t know what I was about to walk into, but there was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

I stood there, taking in the scene before me—Sukuna, looking completely worn down, his eyes barely open, his hair disheveled and his face a mess of exhaustion and defeat. The cigarette hung loosely from his hand, the smoke curling up into the air as Uraume stood nearby, her posture stiff, frustration radiating off of her.

"Uraume, calm down," I said, my voice steady but firm as I crossed the room, stepping closer to the couch where Sukuna was sprawled out.

He groaned in response, his hand sliding off his face just enough for his eyes to meet mine, dull and clouded. He didn’t look surprised to see me, but his expression was unreadable.

"Great, now I'm fucking seeing and hearing shit," he muttered again, his voice thick with fatigue and annoyance.

I didn’t react to his comment, not letting it phase me. Instead, I walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, just enough to be close but not invading his space. I glanced over at Uraume, who seemed to be holding her ground, but she took a step back, recognizing that I was the one who needed to handle this.

"Sukuna, stop hiding," I said, my tone softer now, almost pleading. "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn’t answer immediately, instead, taking another drag from the cigarette, his eyes drifting away from mine, focused on the wall as though he didn’t want to face me, or anyone.

"You think running away is gonna fix anything?" I continued, my voice low but insistent. "You think wallowing in this is gonna bring Jin back? Or fix what’s broken?"

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to snap at me again, but instead, he just let out a deep sigh, and the silence in the room hung thick.

"I’m not hiding," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "I’m just... tired."

"Then let us help you," I replied, my heart aching for him, but frustration mixing with it. "You don’t have to carry all this alone."

Sukuna shifted on the couch, his hand coming up to cover his eyes again, but this time, there was something in the way he did it—a sort of resignation, like he knew I was right, but couldn't bring himself to admit it. Uraume stood there, arms crossed, clearly waiting for him to make a move, but it was clear he wasn’t ready.

I stayed quiet for a moment, allowing him his space, but I couldn’t just leave it at that. He needed to hear it, and I needed him to understand.

"You're not alone in this, Sukuna," I said quietly, my voice breaking through the tension. "You’ve got people who care about you. People who are worried. And you don’t get to shut them out."

He didn’t respond immediately, but I could see his body language soften just a little. I wasn’t sure if he was hearing me, or if he was just too far gone to care, but I couldn’t give up on him—not when he was this close to losing everything, including himself.

"Sukuna..." I started again, but Uraume cut me off.

"You can only do so much, Y/N," she said, her tone serious, but a little softer now. "He’s gotta want it. He’s gotta find it in himself to get back up. And we can’t make that choice for him."

I nodded, swallowing back the knot in my throat. I knew she was right. But it didn’t make it any easier.

"You think he’ll listen?" I asked, barely above a whisper, not expecting a clear answer.

Uraume gave a small shrug. "Maybe. But only if he realizes he’s not beyond saving. But that’s up to him."

I glanced at Sukuna once more, feeling the weight of everything press down on me. His eyes were still closed, and he looked so damn defeated. Part of me wanted to scream, to shake him out of his spiral. But I knew that wasn’t what he needed.

What he needed was time and a reminder that he wasn’t the only one who had lost something.

Sukuna's smirk was laced with bitterness, and it was as if the weight of his guilt and self-loathing had manifested in those cruel words. His eyes never left me as he took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around us like a barrier, creating distance between us that I could almost feel.

I didn't flinch. I refused to let him see the impact his words had, but inside, I was crumbling.

His voice was sharp, cutting through the air, his pain seeping out in every syllable. "You think you can save me, Y/N? Don’t fool yourself. You know I’m worthless."

I wanted to shout at him, tell him he was wrong, but instead, my voice came out softer than I expected. "Sukuna, you're not worthless."

He let out a dry laugh, one that held no humor. "Yeah? Then why the hell did you leave? After we fucked, you tossed me out like I was nothing. Isn’t that what you think of me too?"

Each word felt like a blade to my chest. The anger, the resentment in his voice—it was suffocating. I could see the way his eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable that he kept buried under layers of pride and self-doubt. But he was pushing it all on me now.

I took a shaky breath, trying to keep my composure, but the truth was, hearing him say those things cut deeper than I ever anticipated.

I stepped closer to him, ignoring the thick cloud of smoke that hung in the air. "I didn’t leave because I thought you were worthless," I said, my voice trembling but determined. "I left because you pushed me away. You closed yourself off, pushed me out of your life like I was nothing. And I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t see it."

His expression hardened at that, the smirk fading away as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes narrowing at me. "You think I wanted to push you away?" His voice was quieter now, but there was still that edge of anger behind it. "You think I wanted to feel this empty... this fucking broken?"

I shook my head, my heart aching for him even as I held my ground. "No, I don't think that. But that’s what you did. You kept pushing everyone away, even when they were just trying to help. I couldn’t be the one to fix you, Sukuna. I’m not your savior."

He looked away then, the cigarette trembling slightly in his hand. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do, Y/N?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, the anger gone, replaced by quiet desperation. "How do I fix this? How do I fix myself?"

I didn’t have an answer. How could I? He had to want it, had to find the strength to fight through his demons on his own. But that didn’t mean I was ready to give up on him.

"You can start by not pushing everyone away," I said, my voice softer now, almost pleading. "You’re not alone, Sukuna. Not yet."

For a long moment, there was silence between us. The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy, as I waited for him to respond. But instead, he just took another drag of his cigarette, looking lost in his thoughts.

"I never asked for any of this," he muttered finally, his words barely audible. "I never asked to be the one holding everything together. I never asked for... this pain."

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t have an answer for him. All I could do was watch him, hoping, wishing he would find the strength to face what he had been running from.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t up to me. It never was.

His words hit like a punch to the gut. The rawness in his voice, the way he almost choked on the words—it was as if he was tearing himself apart right in front of me. I watched him, frozen, my heart pounding as he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Just go, Y/N. Please," he said, his voice rough, barely holding it together. "You made the right choice. Don’t let guilt eat at you. Your love... it wasn’t enough."

I felt the sting of tears welling up, but I forced myself to hold them back. This wasn’t the time to break down. He was pulling up walls as quickly as I tried to break them down, and part of me wondered if he would ever let anyone truly see the pieces of himself he kept hidden. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t about my love being "enough"—that he was worthy of love even in his darkest moments. But I knew, standing there, that he wouldn’t hear it. Not now.

"Sukuna," I began, my voice catching despite my best efforts to stay steady. "It's not about being enough or not enough. You’re worth more than this... more than what you think of yourself right now."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Don’t... don’t do that. Don’t pretend I’m some lost soul you can save. You’ve done enough. It’s... it’s better this way."

"Better this way?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, feeling the frustration bubbling up. "Better for who? Because I don't think it's better for you. Look at yourself, Sukuna. You’re drowning, and you’re just... letting it happen."

He clenched his jaw, his hand shaking slightly as he flicked the cigarette into an ashtray. "Maybe that’s what I deserve," he said quietly, almost to himself.

The silence between us felt thick, suffocating. I took a step closer, reaching out, but he backed away, pressing himself further into the couch as if my touch would somehow make things worse.

"If that’s really what you believe..." I whispered, my chest tight. "If you really think you deserve this pain... then I can’t force you to change your mind. But I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something soft and vulnerable, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He lowered his gaze, the same smirk that once felt charming was now nothing more than a mask.

"Just... go," he whispered again, his voice so small it was almost lost in the room. "Forget about me. Move on. It’s better that way."

I stared at him, wanting to reach him, to pull him out of this dark place. But maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn’t save him. Taking a shaky breath, I nodded, my heart shattering with each step as I turned toward the door.

Before I left, I looked back one last time. He wouldn’t meet my gaze, his eyes fixed on some distant point on the floor, lost in his own torment.

“Goodbye, Sukuna,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. And with that, I stepped out, leaving behind the man I’d loved—and the pieces of myself that still wanted to believe he could be saved.

Sukuna's pov

I watched the door click shut behind her, the silence settling thick in the room. My chest felt hollow, but the ache gnawed deeper, clawing its way up my throat. I turned to my side, curling up on the couch, pressing my hand over my eyes as if I could shut out everything I’d just done. I’d pushed her away—again—and for what? To prove some sick point that I was beyond saving? That I didn’t deserve her?

I could still smell her faint perfume lingering in the air, feel the warmth she’d brought with her now slipping through my fingers. It wasn’t like I didn’t want her here. God, I wanted her more than anything. But how could I let her stay, knowing what a mess I’d become? How could I put her through the hell I was living every day?

My mind drifted back to Jin and Gramps, memories that never stayed buried long. Jin would’ve slapped me across the head if he saw me like this, wasting away, hurting everyone who tried to care. But I could never forgive myself for that night, for not being there when he needed me. And now, I was dragging Y/N down with me.

The silence felt louder now, each second stretching painfully, mocking me. She’d tried, even after everything I put her through. She tried to reach me, to pull me out of this pit I’d dug for myself. But I’d thrown her love back in her face. Again.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my fists to my temples. I wanted to cry, to scream, to feel something other than this endless, numbing void. But even that felt like too much. All I could do was lie here, drowning in my own misery, pushing everyone who mattered further and further away

Kenjaku grabbed my wrist, yanking my hands away from my ears. "Look at me, Sukuna," he snapped, his tone harsher than I'd ever heard. "This is your last chance. No one else is going to fight for you if you don’t fight for yourself."

I kept my eyes shut, trying to hold on to the darkness, anything to keep from facing the weight of his words. What good was that going to do? The damage was done, and I’d burned every bridge around me.

I tried pulling my arm free, but his grip tightened. "You think you’re the only one hurting?" Kenjaku’s voice dropped, each word laced with a fury that broke through my wall of apathy. "Your brothers are terrified. Toji, Uraume—they’re all watching you tear yourself apart. And Y/N? She might be gone, but you know damn well it’s killing her too."

My hands trembled as I finally opened my eyes, meeting his stare. I could see the disappointment, the anger. But there was something else, something that looked too much like hope.

"Why does it matter?" I murmured, my voice cracking. "I’ve already lost everything. What’s the point?"

Kenjaku’s expression softened for the briefest moment before he pulled me up to sit. "You haven't lost everything, not yet. But if you keep pushing everyone away, there will be nothing left. Not your friends, not Y/N, not even your own damn self."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and I felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in months—fear.

I held his stare, my jaw clenched, trying to keep the defiance in my eyes. But Kenjaku didn’t look away, his grip on my arm tightening. "What did you take?" he asked again, his tone sharper, cutting right through me.

I tried to shrug him off, mumbling, "Just something to take the edge off. Why does it matter?"

"Because," he hissed, shaking me slightly, "you can barely stand right now, Sukuna. You're falling apart, and you keep reaching for whatever dulls the pain instead of facing it. So I'll ask you one last time—what did you take?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his demand. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want him to know how far I'd fallen. But the way he was looking at me, with a mixture of anger and something close to pity, broke through the wall I’d put up.

"Xanax... some Oxy," I muttered, barely audible, each word feeling like a confession. "And... a couple drinks." I looked away, shame burning in my chest.

Kenjaku's face twisted with a grimace, and he let go of my arm, taking a step back as if the truth was too heavy for him. "This is what you're doing to yourself?" His voice was low, thick with disappointment. "This isn’t numbing the pain, Sukuna. It's destroying you."

I sank back onto the couch, the weight of his words pressing down like a boulder on my chest. "Maybe that’s the point," I whispered, barely holding back the rawness in my voice. "Maybe that’s all I deserve."

Kenjaku knelt in front of me, looking me dead in the eyes. "Then prove yourself wrong," he said firmly. "If you can’t do it for you, then do it for them—your brothers, your friends, everyone who’s still here trying to reach you. But you have to decide to get up and fight."

My answer was simple, and final. "No."

Kenjaku stared at me, frustration flaring in his eyes. I could tell he was holding back from saying more, like he knew words were useless right now.

“You want to keep drowning?” he asked, his voice sharper, leaning closer as if to pierce right through me. “You think this is easier, huh? Wasting away until there's nothing left?”

“Maybe it is," I said, my voice hollow. "Maybe it’s the only way I can even get through this. The only thing that keeps my mind off... everything.”

“You’re just running,” Kenjaku shot back, anger finally surfacing. "You think the pain will leave you alone? It won’t. It’s gonna keep eating you alive until there’s nothing left, Sukuna. Nothing for you, and nothing for the people who actually give a damn about you."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms until the sting cut through the haze clouding my mind. “Then let it. I’m not worth anything to anyone.”

Kenjaku exhaled, the fight leaving his shoulders. He stared at me, his eyes dark and steady. “You keep saying that, but it’s not true. You know it’s not true.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and unbreakable, until he finally straightened, his expression hardening. “Fine. You want to stay here, stay here. But don’t expect any of us to stick around and watch you throw your life away.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

96 for 🪩:

---

Chris coughs, cheeks going red. “Yep… Uh, romantic.”

Oh, come on, buddy. Why did he inherit his father’s lack of game? Where’s the kid with five girlfriends?

Ainslee takes a deep breath. “You think so, Chris?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods emphatically. “Buck’s really smart.”

Buck smiles a little proudly. What a kid. 

“Okay,” Ainslee sighs. “Ivory it is.”

🪩

The day drags on after that. They drive back to the shoe place and get Eddie’s shoes. Way behind schedule. By that point, the kids are asking to stop for lunch. Lunch was not on the schedule. It’s like a call at work. You eat when you’re done. But whatever. Chris wants to stop for lunch? They stop for lunch. 

This puts them behind for the next two errands. The flower dress and the rings. Between these two points, they drop Ainslee off. Buck is highly relieved to have her out of the car. Chris may like her but Buck thinks she’s squirrelly. And he’s already a little tightly wound today so he doesn’t need more of that energy nearby. 

The last thing to do is Eddie’s surprise. His plan had initially been to drop Christopher off, to avoid Chris learning about the surprise. But they’re nearly two and a half hours behind schedule, so there’s no time. So, annoyed by the prospect as he might be, Chris gets to join Buck for the long, traffic-ridden drive down to a shop near Hermosa Beach. 

“Where are we going?” Chris sighs, looking out the window at the cars passing by on the other side of the freeway.

“Uh, can’t tell you,” Buck says.

“Because of the surprise for Dad?” Chris asks.

“Yep,” Buck nods.

“I won’t tell him,” Chris promises. “I didn’t tell you he was going to propose, did I?”

Buck smirks. “I guess that’s true.”

“So?” 

“So, I’m still not telling you,” Buck says. “I’m keeping it locked down.”

“Locked down?” Chris rolls his eyes. 

“Yep,” Buck says. “My lips are sealed.”

But it doesn’t matter. By the time they reach the place - which looks like a hole in the wall, but it’s just because the whole operation is sort of underground - it’s closed. The thing he was most wanting to pick up today, but that was totally out of the way of all the other stuff, can’t be done. His schedule was ruined. Obliterated. Buck just really hopes he finds, what? A couple hours at some point in the coming insane weeks to make it down here without explaining to Eddie what he’s doing.

“Seriously?” Chris says when Buck gets back in the Jeep. “We drove all this way and it’s closed? You couldn’t have checked its hours online?”

“They don’t exactly have a website,” Buck says, teeth clenched. “Sorry, Chris.”

“It’s fine,” Chris sighs. “I’m just really busy this week, Buck.”

No fucking kidding.

🪩

“You seem tense,” Eddie observes later that night, when they’re getting ready for bed. “Long day?”

“It’s all fine,” Buck says. “Prom emergencies averted, necessary wedding stuff acquired.”

“But?”

“But, yeah, that was a long day,” Buck admits.

“Well, thanks anyway,” Eddie says sincerely. “I appreciate you handling that linen situation.”

“Oh, god,” Buck sighs, flopping down into bed beside Eddie. “I think I prevented a homicide.”

“Oh? That bad. She’s usually more like… An eye gouging risk?”

“This is who your son has chosen to love,” Buck tells him.

“Yeah. Dramatic and intense about plans and events. I wonder what is subconsciously inspiring that?”

“I don’t know!” 

Eddie laughs. “I think with all the people you’ve been into in your life before you finally wisened up, you have no room to judge.”

Buck smirks. “I guess that’s true.”

“I think that’s the last prom thing I offered to do before the actual day, so we should be free now,” Eddie says. 

“Aw,” Buck pouts a little. “I can’t believe it’s actually almost here.”

“You’re telling me,” Eddie says. “He was four yesterday.”

“Stop. I’ll cry,” Buck threatens. 

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (30)

***

Reporting to the office takes longer than Vander would like. They spend too long standing over maps of the mine, trying to guess the route they took to get out. It's nearly shift end by the time the supervisors are satisfied and let them go.

Vander just wants to go to bed, to close the door on that little room of theirs and ignore everything outside. But Silco stops when they get to the mess hall.

"You should let your friends know you survived," he says. He hides his scratched fingers in the pockets of his jacket.

"And what are you doing?"

"I should check on the foundlings. There might have been survivors."

Because most of the workers on level three were kids. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Honestly, I'd prefer you weren't there," Silco says with the kind of honesty that comes from complete exhaustion. "We might have to take someone to the river. That would break your heart."

Vander leans in for a hug, holds Silco close. Cheek to cheek, he says softly, "Pretty sure it would break yours too."

"I'm far better at hiding it," Silco replies and Vander can see his point. Vander's never been good at hiding what he feels; it shows on his face and in his voice. If the kids need someone controlled and certain, someone to do what's needed, Silco can hold a steady face.

"Come meet me in the mess hall afterwards?" Vander asks and Silco nods. Maybe the right thing to do would be to run after him, to insist on helping, but Vander’s relieved to avoid it. He's not in a rush to bury teenagers.

Instead, he heads to the mess hall and finds himself tackled by Felicia. It's instinct to catch her.

"Vander! You're okay!"

"A little bruised, but in one piece," Vander says, putting her down. "We got back this afternoon."

Felicia blinks up at him, eyes soft and concerned. "And Silco?"

"The two of us," Vander says and she sags in relief. "We had to dig most of the night, but we made it. Did anyone else…?"

Felicia shakes her head. "Nearly all of level three collapsed. A few miners made it back to the elevator as it came down, but everyone else was lost."

That's nearly two dozen people. Half of the foundling bunks will be empty tonight. Vander has a twinge of conscience, wondering if he should have gone with Silco, and then Benzo's voice is thundering across the courtyard.

"Vander! More lives than a cat, this one!" Benzo has one black eye and an ugly purple bruise across his cheek.

"What happened to your face?" Vander asks, even as Connol walks up with a fat lip and a matching black eye. "Did you two get in a fight?"

"With enforcers," Felicia answers sharply. "These two idiots didn't believe the company when they said level three was unsafe. They tried to sneak in and override the lock on the elevator, and found a bunch of enforcers instead."

"Felicia's just mad that we didn't tell her the plan," Connol says. It looks like it hurts to talk. "It's only because she was arguing with the supervisors, trying to convince them to let us try digging you out."

Vander grins at his friends, bruised and furious on his behalf. Who would have risked their lives to try to save him. "Sounds like the first round's on me. I'll buy the drinks and you can tell me about the daring rescue attempt."

Vander gets to hear the whole story. That it was a handful of miners that complained, not just Felicia, when they announced no rescue attempt. That the supervisors declared it unsafe and locked the elevator, so even if they had managed to dig out that direction, they still would have been trapped that night.

While the supervisors were being yelled at by angry miners, Benzo and Connol took their gear into the mine and pried open the elevator controls. They'd disabled the elevator lock and were working on the grating lock when five enforcers marched on the scene.

"As you can see," Benzo says, nodding at Connol's face, "we weren't stupid enough to fight back."

They all know what happens if you land a lucky punch on an enforcer. A quick transfer to Stillwater and if you're lucky, they'll let you back out in a few years' time.

In turn, Vander tells them about digging their way out and the hidden shrine they found down there. "I think it was Janna," Vander says, shrugging. "It was old. Had an inscription on the wall. Zaun."

Benzo takes a big swallow of his ale. "Could be. My granddad prayed to Janna, and he said his granddad did before him. Maybe people have been praying to her for centuries."

"I'd offer to show you guys but I don't know if we'd find our way back. I stopped paying attention to how many turns we took."

"Pity," Connol says, finishing his drink and standing up. "Does everyone want another?"

Felicia nods, and then curiously watches Connol walk away. She spots Vander noticing, and shrugs it off. "What an idiot. Fighting with enforcers."

Vander grins at her. "Is that what you really think of him?"

"Oh, look," she says, distracting him from his teasing. "It's your other half."

Silco stands in the doorway, scanning the crowd. Anyone else might see the proud tilt of his chin, the judgemental twist of his mouth and assume it's just Silco, mean and cranky as ever. Vander sees something brittle in his expression, like he's holding everything together by willpower alone. "I think that's my cue to leave."

Felicia stands up to let him walk past, and then follows Vander while Benzo protects their table.

"Felicia," Silco says smoothly, giving her a nod. "Good to see you."

Silco looks stunned when Felicia bounces forward and wraps her arms around him. Freezes in place.

"We're glad you're not dead," Felicia says, giving him one more squeeze and then stepping back. "Really."

"Me, too," Silco says wryly.

Felicia smiles, bright and charming. "I mean, can you imagine how Vander would mope around if you hadn't made it out? He'd be insufferable."

"I'll keep that in mind," Silco promises. "But if you'll excuse us, it's been a very long day."

Vander ignores the look Felicia shoots at him. Sometimes Silco – with his sharp mind and love of books – talks like a Piltie and it puts everyone on edge.

"See you tomorrow," Vander says and leads Silco away before Felicia says anything. When the noise of the mess hall is safely behind them, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Silco presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head. They walk back through the old mine, picking their way back carefully through the tunnels, and don't say a thing.

Even when the door is closed behind them and safely latched, Silco only says, "I'm so tired."

"Then let's go to bed," Vander says and leads him to sheets that smell of them, human warmth and animal sweat. He pulls Silco against him and holds him tight.

***

[toasttt11]

carson wren

May 13, 2021

Wyatt was sitting in his room on his birthday when his phone started ringing and he answered the call being told Anna had started labor.

Wyatt eyes widened realizing his child could be born on his birthday.

Wyatt quickly jumped off the bed and grabbed the green backpack diaper bag he had packed with his mom and rushed down out of his room and into his car. He was home alone right now so he didn’t have anyone to tell at the moment and was just rushing to the hospital.

Wyatt drove the short drive to the hospital and quickly hopped out of his car grabbing the back and rushing into the hospital room. He rushed to the front desk and was given the room number and he rushed to the door.

Wyatt knocked on the door and a nurse opened the door and got a nod from Anna that he could come in.

“Just do not hold my hand.” Anna grumbled immediately to Wyatt. The nurses shared a relieved look seeing the father walking in because Anna had only been in labor a few minutes and was already saying disgusting things about the child.

Wyatt just nodded and set the bag onto the chair and walked next to the bed not touching Anna like she asked.

Wyatt watched with wide eyes at all the sounds and how difficult it sounded for Anna as she gave birth to his child. He had a respect that she was able to this but held no more respect for her than that.

Wyatt breath caught as he saw the baby in the nurses arms and the baby made a few little sounds, Wyatt was already in awe.

“You want to hold your daughter Dad?” The nurse asked kindly making Wyatt quickly nod as he blinked and he walked over and paused realizing she said daughter. He has a daughter.

Wyatt gasped softly as his daughter was placed in his arms, Wyatt looked down at his daughter and his whole heart just softened, his whole life changed in just moments and there was nothing more he loved in the world than this special girl in his arms.

She was perfect. He shared a birthday with his little girl, she was the best birthday present he could ever ask for.

“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” The other nurse offered. Wyatt blinked out of his daze and looked up from his daughter and nodded.

Wyatt didn’t let go of his daughter still holding her in one arm as he clipped her umbilical cord.

“We will need to clean her up and give her a check up to make sure everything is well.” The nurse told Wyatt.

Wyatt froze his arms tightening slightly not wanting to leave her.

“Don’t worry you can come with us.” The nurse kindly explaining seeing the new Dad’s worry.

“And don’t come back.” Anna grumbled from the bed, she never wanted to see it.

The nurses shared a look and started guiding Wyatt and the baby out of the room and one of them grabbed the bag Wyatt brought.

Wyatt walked into the new room and let out an uncomfortable breath as he had to set his daughter onto the small tables for baby so she could get cleaned up asks checked over.

One of the nurses did that while the other went to Wyatt, “Do you have the papers?” She asked kindly feeling bad she had to ask right than.

Wyatt nodded he washed his hands before grabbing the file out of the diaper bag and handed them to the nurse.

The nurse looked them over and nodded, “Okay so i’ll file these and in a few weeks you should get papers in the mail basically confirming your custody.” She explained, “Now you’ll be able to take her home later today and we will send you home with formula that’s good for newborns and if you have any questions or if anything feels wrong call or come back.”

Wyatt nodded slowly listening to everything she was saying.

“Okay do you have a name for her?” The nurse asked Wyatt.

Wyatt looked over at his daughter and smiled knowing exactly what her name will be, it felt right, “Carson Wren Johnston.” Wyatt said it for the first time and it was perfect.

The nurses smiled and wrote down the name on the birth certificate and Wyatt signed it.

Wyatt walked back over to his daughter when he finished the paperwork and smiled lovingly seeing his daughter.

“If you are comfortable you can take your shirt off and sit in the chair so she can have her first feed.” The nurse told Wyatt knowing it’s important for skin to skin contact with baby’s.

Wyatt easily nodded and took his jacket and shirt off and sat down on the chair as the nurse placed Carson into his arms.

“Hello Carson.” Wyatt mumbled lovingly as his finger softly brushed across her little cheeks.

Wyatt took the bottle from the nurse and softly offered it Carson which quickly took the bottle and started eating immediately, “Good job.” Wyatt softly cooed as he she had his full attention.

Wyatt isn’t sure he has ever seen anything more beautiful than his daughter.

When he found out about Anna’s pregnancy he never really had the time yet to think about what gender he wanted, he would be happy with either but holding his daughter, he couldn’t think of a better choice than what he has now.

The nurses left Wyatt and Carson and gave them some time alone and he just held her for so long just starring at her even when she finished her bottle and she yawned.

“I promise i’ll be the best dad to you and i’ll be whatever else you need. I love you.” Wyatt whispered pressing a kiss to her little forehead.

Wyatt didn’t know how long he stayed there just holding her as she slept and he looked at all of her little features just noticing how much she already looks like him.

Carson stirred slightly and her little eyes fluttered opened and for the first time she looked into someone’s eyes, Her Dad’s.

Wyatt gasped softly seeing her eyes being the exact shade as his eyes, “Hello.” Wyatt grinned down at her, “Happy birthday my love.” Wyatt cooed at his baby.

The nurses came in after a few hours and Wyatt didn’t even realize how long he had been there alone.

Wyatt let the nurses check over Carson once more as he put his shirt and jacket back on. Wyatt grabbed the outfit he picked out for Carson to wear home. He put the diaper bag on and walked over with the little outfit.

The nurses helped Wyatt put the little brown fuzzy us onesie on Carson, it was a little bear onesie and she looked adorable.

Wyatt finished everything and they were allowed to go home. He carried his daughter in his arms as he walked out of the hospital and brought his daughter outside for the first time, the sun was already going down.

Wyatt walked to his car and opened the back door, he had the car seat already all set up in the car for Carson. For the first time he put her in the car set and buckled her up, she barely stirred just continued to sleep.

Wyatt let out a nervous breath as he got in the drivers seat and glanced through the mirror at his baby.

Wyatt went extremely slow and went through the slowest streets as he drove her home.

Wyatt parked in the driveway and got out gently picking her up and grabbing the diaper bag.

Wyatt grimaced realizing he never told his family where he went, “Think it’s a good birthday surprise little bear?” Wyatt asked looking at Carson and she just cooed making him nod and let out a breath.

Quinn looked up as the door opened, “Hey your back-“ She paused seeing the tiny figure in her baby brother’s arm, “No way!” Quinn whispered shouted making their parents turn and looked shocked.

“Everyone meet Carson Wren.” Wyatt proudly introduced his daughter to his family.

[reverieblondie]

Cal x Lae'zel

Reuniting at Last Light.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: I'm back on my self indulgence and geeking about my favorite crack ship again. I will never stop putting these two together. Thank you to @drizztdohurtin for letting me ramble about them in your ask box (that seems like forever ago now) And thank you @dark-and-kawaii for the pictures she took for me of them together, they are all so perfect! Please check out part one of when they met at the grove.

Cal can't help but sigh as he thinks about Lae'zel, her lovely neck, darling ears, and beautiful skin as pretty as a fresh field of spring grass. He misses it, his little escape he had with her. Though it was hard training with her, he missed it, his lungs screaming in exhaustion, and the sight of her rare small smile when he did a good job... Cal's feet continue to drag on as he thinks of her, and he silently prays that she is okay.

Rolan watches Cal's dragging figure, curious. He leans over towards Lia, "Is Cal alright? He seems sick. Do I need to tell Zevlor that we should stop and rest?"

Lia shakes her head. "I think he is missing someone. Maybe he had a crush on someone in the grove? He's been sighing all morning…" 

Rolan's face contorts to one of worry before he leans in again, "You... you don't think it was Tav, do you?" 

Lia just gives Rolan a small laugh before patting his shoulder.

As the Caravan moves further into the shadowlands, things become darker and darker. Then, the screams.

It's an odd feeling to have your whole life change instantly. Her life, her loyalty... Was it all a waste? Lae'zel, of course, keeps all this inner turmoil packed down, hidden under her stone wall demeanor... She had felt so sure of everything in her life, but now everything she had ever known had been ripped apart. She truly, for the first time, feels lost.

Tav her... friend? (still a foreign concept to her) has been helping her get through everything, including the creche, and the Underdark, and now is trying to talk to her about what has happened, but it's just not a clear thing to explain, the storming feelings that boil in her belly… How can she share that weakness with anyone? 

Last night, when Voss appeared at their camp and revealed more truths, Tav sat with Lae'zel in silence all night, just there in case she wanted to vent. It was odd... Lae'zel appreciated Tav's act of comradery. It was a gesture of kindness that reminded her of someone... Cal...

Lae'zel would never admit that she missed Cal, but she did find that her mind would wander back to him and their last moments together. Those words of him thanking her and his foolish hope to see her again... She wanted to chastise herself for thinking such soft thoughts like some doe-eyed maiden... but the sight of his strong face lit up in the dark from the campfire, the orange glow of his eyes... and the conviction in his voice... She deep down knew that she wanted to see him again too... and she wanted him to hear her whispered admission of that...

Lae'zel scoffs to herself... What has become of her life? Getting to Last Light was a struggle, but everyone was relieved to get away from the shadows for even a semblance of sanctuary. And it turns out they were not alone. 

When Lae'zel saw the tiefling refugees, she was surprised to see that some of them had even made it through the cursed lands alive. Then, she started to keep her eyes peeled for one in particular. Lae'zel had been the first to point out Rolan to Tav from his drunken ranting at the bar; Lae'zel didn't know much of the wizard besides that he was Cal's brother. Tav made a beeline towards Rolan, and Lae'zel followed, hoping to figure out what had become of Cal; she had trained him, so he had to be okay... he just had to be.....

Lae'zel Could hardly contain her rage. Rolan had explained how he had tried to save them, but they just had to play hero. He had blamed Tav, but when he described how Cal had refused to back down until he was knocked out and dragged off, she knew that was her influence upon him—never back down, never accept defeat. That fool... and now he has been taken to Moonrise Towers. He had better still be alive, or she would kill him…

Of course, Tav had vowed to Rolan to return his family, something he snappingly rejected, saying she had done enough. Lae'zel had the mind to cut his tongue off from his disrespect to her friend, but he was Cal's brother, so she decided to show leniency this once.

"I feel terrible..." Tav shuddered through tears. Everyone else had gone to camp or the forgue, leaving Lae'zel alone with the sobbing Tav in the back of the Inn. 

"Poor Rolan." She kept trembling, and her tears seemed to never stop. Lae'zel rolled her eyes, still not fully understanding Tav's fascination and heartache for the rude spell caster. Lae'zel wouldn't criticize taste, however. 

Taking a page from what she had observed with others, Lae'zel reached her hand out and patted Tav's back (albeit a bit harshly), but it was a gesture of consoling. Tav lifted her head, turning her puffy red, wet face to Lae'zel. The gith fought every urge not to scoff at the pathetic sight. What would Cal say?

"Do not be so pathetic. We will save the wizard's family and others. He will be forced to shamefully bite his tongue when we retrieve them."

Tav and the rest of their party had decided that it would be best to split up and cover more ground. This meant, however, that Tav, Astarion, and Shadowheart went to save the captured while Lae'zel, Karlach, Wyll, and Gale ran interference. And though on the inside, Lae'zel wanted to go down to the dungeons, she didn't dare confess to this weak desire. Her pride wouldn't allow it... or maybe she just didn't know how she would respond if she didn't see Cal.

Lae'zel rolls her eyes at herself. She has a mission; she can't be thinking this now. They need to focus on getting back to Last Light.

Everything since Tav came down to rescue them has happened so fast. From breaking out to running for their lives to climbing into the boats, it all has been a blur. But now that everyone is safe, at last, Cal feels like he can finally breathe again.

After a tearful and somewhat loud reunion with Rolan, Cal was on a mission to see someone else. He hoped to find her if she was still with the band of misfits. Cal pushed through the people reuniting with one another, keeping his head on a swivel when a little tsk-like hiss caught his attention. 

There she stood, her skin perfect, her hair soft and intricately braided, and clad in her heavy silver armor. "Laezel," he can't help himself from whispering, and when he sees her delicate ears twitch and those harvest gold eyes meet his, he can't help but whisper. 

Before he can think, his feet move on their own as he runs to her; his heart is about to leap from his chest. Cal had thought of their days when they were becoming closer. He had spent restless nights dreaming of seeing her once again shining in the sun, praying to see her and get the chance to hold her in his arms. 

"Lae'zel!" he cheers, holding out his arms to her as he runs closer. "I had hoped to."

But before he could hold her... Lae'zel delivered a swift punch to his thick skull.

Lia and Rolan were not the only ones to gap at the reaction, seeing Cal quickly sink to his knees and wincing in pain. Everyone paused from running over when they saw Cal chuckle with a bright smile. Lae'zel looks down at Cal with a scowl.

"You dare get caught by the likes of those scum... I should cut you down myself." 

Cal keeps smiling as he looks up at her, "I knew you weren't going to be happy about that, but I also couldn't just stand and do and do nothing."

Laezel gives a Short nod, "You're right. I would have been even more pissed. Now stand."

 Cal, knowing better, stands abruptly to his full height. Lea'zel eyes him carefully, and with her so close, he's having to fight the urge for his tail not to sway. All at once, those feelings he's held back come boiling over, and he can't stop himself from grabbing Lae'zel and squeezing her in a tight embrace. Lae'zel's first instinct is to pull away, but she also has the urge to meet his embrace. She's unsure if it's the feel of his arms around her or the smell of his musk, but she doesn't ever want to be let go.

So, with slow, careful hands, she reaches up and returns the embrace. Though she can't help that after a minute, she's patting his back impatiently with others, maybe seeing her in a vulnerable moment.

On the other side of the room, Tav and Rolan look on in disbelief. Rolan turns to Tav, "And how long has that been going on?"

Sometime during the night, Lae'zel and Cal could avoid pring questions from their friends (and family) and managed to get where it was only them in the cold night air of the shadowlands. Of course, Lae'zel didn't mean to open up to Cal... but somehow, he always brings out the worst in her, so she gives in to her feelings and explains her journey and why she is still infected... As she spoke, she couldn't believe how open she was. She was weak and vulnerable, but as she looked up at Cal's glowing eyes, they were so steady on her... She never felt safer…

"I'm a ward of my people... I was cast out... lied to, now I'm... alone."

"Refugee..." Cal finishes her sentence. Lae'zel lifts her eyes to see that Cal is already gazing at her. 

They both look away from each other bashfully; Lae'zel continues, "I have my Companions and Tav... but how could they fully understand me and my mind now…"

Cal takes in her words before an idea, "You could be with us!"

Lae'zel looks at him, confused, before he explains, "Think about it; we are not so different. We are both refugees trying to find a new home and a new purpose... and we both have cool eyes. I have ridges, and you have spots, but it decorates our skin. We both have pointed ears, though I would argue yours are far more elegant. Also, we both have sharp teeth... So would you want to join us for dinners, we usually eat lots of meats." 

Lae'zels eyes widen, "Join... your family..."

Cal flushes and stammers as he explains, "Only if you wanted! You could come and go as you please, but... We would treat you kindly. I can see you and Lia being fast friends, and... Well, Rolan will be his apprenticeship, but the two are kind of similar, rough around the edges at first but loyal."

Lae'zel smiles, "So you see us getting along?"

"Yes! I mean, it would be an adjustment, but it's an option for you."

Lae'zel Couldn't help but smile at the thought of finally having a choice of her own.

As the night continues and the conversation grows quiet, Lae'zel stands and says, "You should reconvene with Rolan and Lia. It's late, and you must rest."

Before she can walk away, Cal stands up and quickly grabs her hand to stop her. She would have ripped her hand away if it had been any other, but this is Cal, so she allows it.

"I know you will be cured... and I don't want you to only be a pleasant memory I think of in the late nights as I stare into the stars... I want you in my life. I will respect whatever you decide to do with your future... In my selfish hopefulness, I hope you will stay in the city with us... But If you go elsewhere, I want you to know... You can always have a place with us if you want to." 

Cal leans in and kisses her cheek in soft tenderness. Lea'zel feels her cheeks redden at the mushy display, but it still stirs something in her chest. 

"I will get to the Gate... and look out for you there," Cal declares. 

Lae'zel shakes her head. "Your optimism is exhausting yet refreshing." She touches Cal's cheek, and he leans into her. He's so different from everyone she's encountered on this journey. She's unsure if she wants to hurt him or hold him, but she's in no place to decide now.

"This future where we meet in the city sounds pleasant... but I am unsure of my future and where I fit."

"It Should be where you want to be," Cal challenges. Lae'zel is shocked for a moment before she smiles and pats Cal's cheek. "Good night, Cal."

Cal lends his forehead to hers, a grand gesture of love and trust he wants to one day explain to her... "Good night. Lae'zel..." 

"Till we meet again in Baldur's Gate."

(part 3 finding each other again in the city!!)

[starbrsts]

she couldn't blame him for wanting to know more, it was so like him to worry about her like that. she might have played the damsel in distress act so well, but she didn't want milo to worry about her. this was her mess, and she'd cause enough hurt for the both of them already. "in like, every way, probably.." a bitter laugh soon follows, not quite meeting his gaze now as her shoulders slump. "okay, maybe not every way. that's dramatic. we're just fighting a lot, and i really don't wanna do it anymore." she was sick of forcing a lackluster relationship with an asshole who never really understood her, a mistake from the beginning. he made her feel bad about herself, she found herself crying more than she ever smiled and that wasn't her. she'd always been a romantic, a lover girl who dreamt of being swept off her feet. and yet when the guy of her dreams, who just so happened to be her best friend, confessed his feelings, she found her mind automatically going to every worst case scenario.

he wasn't wrong, she should know that he knows her better than she knows herself. take this moment for example, she's standing there - raw and vulnerable, the neon lights of a sign above him bounce off her porcelain features and the moment his thumb brushes her cheek she can't help but lean into his touch. a content sigh slips past her plush lips, flashbacks in her mind of how it felt to have his hands all over her, his lips trailing over her skin. a soft hand closes around his wrist for a moment, not wanting him to go anywhere. "i promise you, me going back to him didn't mean that i wasn't choosing you." daphne's eyebrows furrow, willing the perfect way to explain her reasoning. but even she struggled to grasp it somedays. "i just.. i was scared, mi. a-and so i ran."

she's closer now, her hip almost bumps against his and she's grateful for the tiny corner of the bar that they holed up in. life is moving on around them, a million different conversations and drinks orders being yelled but all she can focus on is him. "i know." he's right to say it, and she's so fucking relieved he feels bold enough to. because it was now or never to really be honest, and she was already on a roll. "if i could go back..." she starts, sighing in wistful defeat, shaking her head because no, she couldn't go back. but she did have right here, right now. "if i ever had the chance again... milo, i'd stay with you forever."

"After all these years, you should know I know you like the back of my hand by now," the brunette murmured, his voice a velvet murmur, his gaze slipping upward beneath the sweep of his dark lashes. In that instant, the bar dissolved into a distant hum, the laughter and chatter swallowed by the magnetic pull between them. It was as if time itself had paused, leaving only the two of them suspended in the weight of the moment. The bodies pushing past them, the bartender’s hurried calls, the clink of glasses—none of it reached him, for his attention was anchored solely on her, the blonde before him, her presence an undeniable pull. "Not very good?" His words hovered, a quiet edge of something unspoken in the air. "In what way, exactly?" There was a tremor in his chest, the sharp rise of anxiety curling beneath his ribs like a storm building on the horizon. He was no longer sure if he was prepared for the answer, but he knew, in the same breath, that he needed it.

Milo’s fingers tightened around hers, his grip steady and warm, grounding her as if he could somehow sense the storm of emotions brewing inside her. He could feel the tremor in her hand, the weight of her unspoken words hanging in the space between them, and it made something inside him ache with the kind of understanding that only time and familiarity could forge. Her confession, so raw, so vulnerable, struck him deeply like a lightning strike straight to the heart. He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek with a tenderness that made his heart race. "Daphne, you don't need to apologise. It happens. You chose him and well, yeah. Here we are now" he continued. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch of her hand, or the look in her eyes, but something about her seemed to unravel him in a way he hadn’t expected. He could feel the pull of her, the way she needed him in a way that mirrored his own need for her, yet there was that hesitation, the fear in her gaze that he recognised all too well.

There was a vulnerability in her voice, an honesty that felt like both a plea and a promise. A soft sigh escaped him, the weight of everything they’d been through settling in the quiet between them. "You shouldn't have gone back to him," he said quietly, his voice low, almost too calm for the heaviness of the moment. "You should have stayed with me," he continued, his eyes never leaving hers, his words weighted with the depth of everything he'd kept bottled up. 

[chirpsythismorning]

Just remembered that Will sat on the icebox in the van for the 30 hr ride back to Hawkins

[earl-grey-crow]

.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about fallout 4 against my will

[aqqleshiqqing-archive]

another edit for today WAAAAAA given the context of this panel it makes me so emotional.....

to say it simply... their son is coming back home <333 after an arduous journey to stop a catastrophe from happening, he's returning back home....